


The Magic of Emrys (Book One)

by Jay_Washington



Series: Swords and Spells [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: All Magic Comes With a Price, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Arthur Finds Out, Arthurian, Asexual Character, BAMF Merlin, Bisexual Female Character, Court Sorcerer Merlin, Dark Merlin, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Character of Color, Female Merlin, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Immortal Merlin, Jealous Arthur, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Love/Hate, Magic, Magic Revealed, Master/Servant, Multi, Oblivious Merlin, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, POV Third Person Limited, Pining Arthur, Pining Merlin, Prophecy, Protective Arthur, Protective Gwaine, Sex Magic, Sexual Tension, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-09 06:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 77,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13476144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Washington/pseuds/Jay_Washington
Summary: Emrys has always known that it is her destiny to turn the spoiled Prince Arthur Pendragon into the greatest king Camelot has known since magic was expelled from the kingdom. But if Emrys guides Arthur to his destiny, she leads herself to her own doom. Emrys could change her fate, but the Ancient Order would require another life in her stead: Arthur's.





	1. Emrys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After weeks of being in Camelot, Emrys meets with the dragon, Baelfire, in an attempt to fight against the destiny she so desperately wants to be rid of.

When Uther Pendragon wanted to make a point, he made it as sharp as possible.

It was midday. With bone-chilling thuds, the executioner’s ax fell upon the necks of three accused sorcerers, severing their heads from their bodies. The blood dripped through the stocks and spread across the smooth stone ground. All Emrys could do was watch in horror as the heads were mounted on tall spikes in the palace square for all to see.

Three boys who’d barely reached manhood, now dead for being menaces and troublemakers. The severed heads stared at the crowd with blank eyes and slack expressions. Crimson blood trickled down the wooden spikes while the bodies were taken away to be burned.

The king did not give second chances—especially not to anyone who practiced magic. Sorcery would be dealt with swiftly and remorselessly—and publicly.

Every time that blade was used, a growing uneasiness slithered through Emrys like a heavy mist she could no longer ignore. Camelot had once been peaceful and prosperous and magical—but now someone with a taste for blood was seated upon the throne.

The castle glittered before the crowd like a massive golden crown, its spires rising high up into the cloudless blue sky. It was set in the direct center of the upper town, a walled city two miles wide and deep. Inside, cobbled roads led to villas, businesses, taverns, and shops. Only the privileged and important were able to make this part of the city their home. But today, the gates had opened to all who wished to see the execution.

“There were more than usual today,” said Emrys as she shifted her attention from the impaled heads. For three weeks she’d attended an execution and it had done little to reassure her of her own fate.

Such deaths would be considered by most to be destiny. The druids that Emrys had grown up with believed that their futures were set and that they had to accept what they were given—be it good or bad.

Emrys, of all people, knew that everyone’s destinies were written in stone. But stone could be broken, and destinies could change. And that was what Emrys was going to do.

“It is the king’s birthday.” Silas’ voice was hard to separate from the incessant chatter of the throng.

The crowd hushed for the briefest of moments before swelling murmur rose again. King Uther had emerged onto the balcony—a tall, handsome man with piercing blue eyes that chilled Emrys’ spine every time he glanced over her.

The regal-looking Princess Morgana joined her father on his left side. Her dark black hair was curled around her fair face; her skin shone like a shimmering pearl. She didn’t look at the impaled heads.

The crowd cheered as a young man joined the others on the balcony. It was the first time Emrys had ever seen him, but she knew who he was: Arthur Pendragon, crown prince to King Uther’s throne. Arthur was a near mirror image of his father, but younger, of course, and with golden hair that caught in the sunlight.

A drunken voice from the crowd shouted out, loud enough to be heard over everyone else: “Fools! Every last one of you! You think he means to unite us as a happy kingdom? Lies! The King is driven only by greed and a lust for power! He’s trying to destroy magic! He must be stopped, or we’re all doomed!”

Silence fell.

Emrys’ gaze shot toward the king to see if he’d heard.

He had. With a flick of the king’s hand, four guards marched toward the crowd, located the man, and wrenched him forward so forcefully that he fell to his knees just left of where the severed heads were on display. When he tried to rise, a guard pushed him back down. The empty bottle he clutched in his right hand fell to the ground.

The man wore what looked like finely tailored clothes that had slowly tattered to rags. His face held a few weeks’ worth of a dark beard and he smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in the same amount of time. His eyes were glazed with however much wine he’d consumed, but otherwise were fiercely fixed on those who now faced him.

“My name is Noren Wetherson,” cried the man. “I have suffered personally at your hand, Uther Pendragon, because of your wretched hatred of magic!”

“Camelot’s future will not benefit from the use of magic.”

“If you truly believe that, then you’ve damned us to a future of pain—but I assure you, yours holds the very same! And may the gods deal with me, be it ever so severely, if, by today’s end, my words have not come true!”

Noren’s sea green eyes lost its blue. “ _Gadewch i’r tywydd yr haf, maent, yn carcarem circumvertentem_!”

Emrys could feel the shift of power in the earth; feel her magic yearn to bind itself to this power—this magic. Her insides opened themselves to the magic around her, suddenly revealing all of the auras around her. At first the mix of colors blinded her, but after a moment, her vision adjusted. Noren’s aura was as bright a yellow as the sun, a warning of the dangerous spirit that rested inside of him.

Emrys turned to look at the balcony, and nearly jumped when she saw the silver eyes above the castle. She knew that it was the eyes of the Great Dragon that she had envisioned. She tried to touch the Great Dragon’s spirit with her magic, reaching out to him with her very being.

With a sudden _snap!_ Emrys was forced out of her connection to Noren’s magic. The earth had given him the power he needed to cast his spell. A spiral of wind forced the guards away from Noren and whipped around his gray cloak. With a laugh as the crowd ran from him, Noren disappeared from sight.

The king tried to soothe the troubled crowd and ordered the guards to conduct another witch-hunt. He swore to protect the kingdom from the evils of sorcery.

“Emrys,” said Silas, placing his hand on the small of her back, “we should return now.”

The thought of going into the castle after the execution sickened Emrys. Besides, she had to find the Great Dragon. “If it’s alright with you, Uncle, I’d prefer to stay out a while longer.”

“That’s fine, but no more than an hour, Emrys—you still haven’t completed your chores! And, Emrys, this time, stay within the walls.”

Emrys nodded and followed the cobbles into the lower town, where the simplest of citizens resided—and where the dreaded wall ended. Unlike the gates to the upper town, there were no castle guards at the forest entrance. There were only the volunteers from the lower town, and they were more than willing to let Emrys pass if she promised to bring back flowers for them.

Emrys hated to lie to Silas, but there was no helping it this time. She had to find the Great Dragon. Emrys just knew she was close to finding him, but she wished she knew how close she was. There were only so many places the Great Dragon could be in Camelot; and there was only one place Emrys hadn’t searched yet: the dark woods, where the Great Dragon’s eyes had just appeared.

The only birds that sang in the dark woods were the ravens. They screeched at Emrys as she passed them, alerting the forest of her presence. Strangely, Emrys did feel as if she was being watched by her surroundings. With each step, her heart beat faster and faster.

Emrys tried to hold on to her courage, but the snapping of the twigs around her forced her to turn around and return to the path. Maybe she would be able to convince one of the guards to accompany her the next time she wanted to go. Thinking about the guards made Emrys remember to grab a handful of dandelions for them. After she’d passed out the flowers, she realized she had an extra one.

Emrys folded the flower into her skirts and followed the side streets through the upper town—anywhere that wouldn’t take her too close to the palace. It was bad enough she could see the cursed thing from her bedroom window.

“You’re back much earlier than I expected,” said Silas when she entered the villa.

Emrys smiled. “If you stopped thinking I was so reckless, I wouldn’t surprise you so much.”

“I suppose I do owe you an apology. I’d assumed that you’d gone outside the walls again.”

“Well, I’m not entirely innocent.” She placed the extra flower on the book he was reading. “I did go out and pick this for you.”

Silas glanced at the yellow weed, suddenly seeming much older. His almond-colored skin folded just above his eyebrows as he let out an exasperated sigh. “I should’ve known,” he whispered. “Don’t forget your chores, Emrys.”

She grimaced. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’d like for you to finish those quickly. I need you to accompany me to the castle later this afternoon.”

This time, Emrys couldn’t suppress her groan. “I’m afraid I’m still not in the mood to visit the castle. And, quite frankly, I don’t know how you can go either. I don’t understand why you serve Uther so loyally after he’s caused this kingdom so much pain and distress.”

“Emrys!” Silas shook his head disapprovingly. “There are many things I allow you to do under my roof, but treason is not one of them. Despite any mistakes he has made, Uther is still our king, and he deserves our respect.”

Emrys didn’t believe that, but she didn’t argue with Silas any further. “My apologies, Uncle.”

“We’ll go to the castle after you’ve finished your chores. Hurry, please.”

Emrys did as he asked. Her room wasn’t half as clean as she’d remembered it being that morning—but that could be easily fixed. Emrys shut the door and raised her hands to the clutter of books and clothes on her floor.

Nothing happened. The books didn’t move, the clothes didn’t put themselves away, and Emrys’ eyes didn’t glow the way they usually did when she used magic.

Instead, darkness fell over her, and Emrys collapsed.

 

~

 

Rays of sunshine warmed her skin with the heat of a summer’s day. And slowly, slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking to clear her vision. The colors were so vivid and bright that she had to shield her eyes until she became used to the unexpected intensity.

Emrys looked down, realizing that her simple dress had transformed into flowing white silk, a beautiful gown with gold embroidery at the edges of the bodice.

A cluster of fragrant trees circled her. The scent of wildflowers filled the warm air. Soft grass pressed against her palms as she pushed herself up enough to take in her surroundings.

At first glance, the tree that sat in front of her appeared to be like any other, but a second revealed that it wasn’t. The tree was much larger than anything Emrys had ever seen—maybe even tall enough to look down on the castle itself. The tree shimmered as if made from crystal, the branches sweeping to the ground like delicate glass feathers. The grass underneath it was not only emerald green, but was swirled together with silver and gold as if each blade had been dipped in precious metal. The lake that rested within the tree’s trunk sparkled in the daylight as if coated in diamonds.

It was all so strange and beautiful that for a long, breathless moment Emrys couldn’t look away.

“Where am I,” she whispered.

“Welcome to the Great Tree of Avalon, Emrys.”

Her head whipped back in the direction of the trees to see that a young man was approaching. She fought to rise to her feet as quickly as possible, scrambling back from him a few steps.

“Stay back!” she warned. Her heart beat like a wild thing trapped in her chest. “Don’t come any closer.”

“I mean you no harm.”

Emrys opened her _magic_ but didn’t see anything to determine his aura. Why would she believe him? She clenched her fist and summoned fire magic. Her hand burst into flame. “I can’t promise the same if you dare to take another step.”

He was five paces away from her. He cocked his head and studied her hand as if fascinated. “Fire magic is the most unpredictable piece of _magic_. You should be careful how you choose to wield it.”

“And you should be careful when sneaking up on me if you don’t want to be burned.”

All Emrys could do was stare at the single most beautiful boy she’d seen in her entire life. Tall and lean, with golden skin, his hair burnished bronze, his eyes the color of dark silver. He wore a loose white shirt and white pants and he stood barefoot upon the soft grass.

“I witnessed what you did the last time you used fire magic,” he said casually, as if they were having a regular conversation. “Your village elders tried to force you to use your magic in their presence. You almost reduced everything to ash.”

Emrys was still haunted by the smell of burning flesh and tortured screams. “How could you have known that?”

“You’d be surprised what I know about you, Emrys. My name is Baelfire. I am one of those known to mortals as dragons. I’ve watched over you since you were an infant.”

“Dragon.” The word caught in her throat and her gaze snapped back to his. “ _You’re_ a dragon?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re a dragon, why do you seem so…”

“Mortal?”

“I was going to say ‘human’, actually.”

“I can’t travel through your dreams in my true form.”

“Your true form?”

Baelfire smiled. “Watch me.” He stepped backward and raised his hands to his sides. There was a swirling around him, blurring his image for a moment, the air shifting, shimmering, turning.

The next moment, his arms were wings, his skin sporting golden scales that shone beneath the sunlight. With a flap of these wings, he took flight. He hovered over her for a moment or so before descending. Before he touched the ground, he shifted back into the form of a young man. He looked down at himself.

“Usually when I shift form, I don’t retain my clothing. It’s the only difference you would note in the waking world.”

“Then I suppose I should be thankful this is only a dream.” Emrys changed the subject to avoid thinking about what Baelfire would’ve looked like in reality without his coverage. “So this _is_ a dream,” she said. “And this place? You said it’s the Great Tree of Avalon?”

“This is a copy of the forest where the Tree takes root.”

“I’ve never heard of the Great Tree of Avalon.”

“Most mortals haven’t.”

“Is that why you chose to meet me here?”

“I needed to see you, to introduce myself, and to tell you that I can be of assistance to you. I have wanted to do this for so long.”

“Then why have you only introduced yourself now?”

“It wasn’t the right time before. Although, believe me, of those of my kind, I’m _not_ the most patient. It’s been difficult to wait, but I’m introducing myself now. I can help you, Emrys—and you can help me.”

“Help you?”

Baelfire cocked his head again. “You can put out the fire, Emrys. I mean you no harm today, I assure you.”

With a focused thought, Emrys snuffed out the fire and returned her hand to her side. “How can I help you?”

“You are the sorceress I’ve been waiting a millennium for.”

“That _you’ve_ been waiting for?”

Baelfire nodded. “Your destiny is tied to my world—the Other World. It’s tied to Camelot, to Arthur, to me. Your destiny is tied to the Prophecy, and it always has been.”

A wave of nausea rolled over Emrys, as it always did when someone mentioned her destiny. “You’ve watched me because of the Prophecy.”

“Yes. Many didn’t believe, but I did. And I waited until you came to Camelot before I could talk to you. To guide you. To help you. Your magic will make the difference to me, to the Other World.”

Emrys shook her head. This wasn’t what she wanted! “You drew me into this dream because you said you could help me. How?”

“I know you want to escape from your destiny; I can grant your wish, Emrys. After you help me, of course.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she scoffed. “Is death the escape you’re talking about? Because I should warn you I already know that part of the Prophecy.” Saying it out loud gave way to the fear that she had been able to hide so well.

“You think you are only destined to do one great thing in your lifetime? You know only a small piece of what has been planned for your life. I know every bit of it!”

“But do you know enough to stop death? How do you propose to fix that?”

Baelfire smiled and said, “By making you immortal, Emrys.”

Emrys froze, but only for a moment. “That’s impossible.”

“It is not. I’ve seen it done before. And in return for granting you eternal life, you must promise me, Emrys, that you will return the favor and help me as well.”

“I promise,” she said quickly. “Now, how do I become immortal?”

“Immortality is granted only to those with the purest of hearts. I will know the nature of your heart if you can refrain from using your magic to affect the outcome of another’s life.”

Emrys could’ve laughed. “No magic? I’d hardly say that’s a challenge for me. I live in Camelot. With Uther’s law, your challenge will only make it easier for me to survive another day.”

His silver eyes met hers directly. “You were _born_ with magic, Emrys. It’s far too powerful for you to contain right now and it’s only growing stronger by the day. You don’t even realize it yet.”

“Oh, believe me,” she said quietly, “I know how powerful it is.”

Baelfire’s face turned to the left, his brow creasing deeply. “Someone is waking you up.”

“Silas,” Emrys breathed, remembering what she’d been doing before this had happened. “When will I see you again?”

“Mortals need to sleep every day, don’t they?” Baelfire suddenly looked as old as Silas. “Emrys, remember our promise.”

All she could do was nod.

And then Baelfire, the forest, and the Great Tree of Avalon were gone, disappearing like broken glass falling away and leaving only darkness behind.

 

~

 

Emrys inhaled a sprig of herbs and opened her eyes; she sat up almost immediately, coughing to rid her lungs of the scent. “What was that?”

“Sage,” said Silas as he tucked it into his pocket. “What were you doing on the floor, Emrys? It looks like you were slacking off on your chores.”

She thanked Silas for giving her an excuse. “Well, if you know what it looked like, why are you asking me?”

Silas let out another long, exasperated sigh. “Enough of this, Emrys. We have to get to the castle.”

“But my chores aren’t finished,” Emrys protested. “Shouldn’t I stay home and do them?”

“You mean so you can run off to the dark woods again?” He held the flower she’d given him in his hand. “I’m a physician, Emrys—a collector of herbs and plants of all kinds. I’m well aware of where each one grows. Now, let’s get going.”

Emrys, speechless and shocked, followed Silas to the castle doors. “What exactly am I supposed to be helping you with?”

“I’m glad you asked,” said Silas with a smile. He handed Emrys the basket of medicine he’d brought and then took out a single vial for him. “I’m afraid I don’t have the energy I used to. I can’t apply Uther’s medication and go on a hunt for his children. I need you to give Princess Morgana and Prince Arthur their respective medications. You’ll find their names on the vials.”

Emrys had no intention of seeing Arthur Pendragon before Baelfire could make her immortal—no need to excite the gods by meeting her destined. “Isn’t there anything else I can do?”

“Would you like to switch jobs with me? If so, I must warn you that Uther is very sensitive around his lower back—the troubles of an old battle wound, I’m afraid.”

Emrys tightened her grip on the basket. “I’ll go deliver these.”

“Morgana’s chambers are on the third floor, second to last door on your right. I have no idea where Arthur might be at this time, so you’ll have to search for him. Be quick, Emrys.”

“I will.” She wouldn’t be in the castle any longer than she had to be. It reeked of stuffy aristocrats—especially now that the castle was taking in visitors for the king’s celebration.

The guests passed by the speared heads without so much as a second glance. It sickened Emrys to think that Uther’s rule had caused the insensitivity toward death. Emrys knew better than to underestimate death. She had feared it all of her life. She’d never be able to ignore it the way the people of Camelot did.

The guards standing outside the door to Morgana’s chambers checked her contents and let her into the room. Emrys blinked slowly to adjust to the dim lighting.

“Yes, what do you want?”

Emrys’ attention flickered to her left, where a girl who couldn’t have been much older than her was sitting at a vanity table. The girl’s brilliant red hair fell in long waves down her back. Emrys reached up and untangled some of her brown curls, catching her reflection in the mirror.

“Well,” said the girl, her tone harsh and impatient.

Emrys remembered that she had been asked a question. “I’ve come to deliver a tonic for the princess. Where is Princess Morgana?”

“Never mind that,” said the girl. She opened her palm and stood up to receive the vial. “I’ll give it to her.”

“No, wait! I’m here,” said Morgana as she rushed from behind the purple curtains in the back of the room. She swept Emrys under her warm gaze. “Forgive my hiding—I thought you were Vera with one of her treats. She’s a sweet girl, but she’s not a cook.”

“She’s horrendous,” the girl said, as if that would clear up Emrys’ confusion.

“She tries her best,” Morgana corrected. “But you don’t seem to be Vera at all. Who are you?”

“Emrys...princess.” She wasn’t sure if that was the correct term, but it sounded formal enough. “Silas sent me with your tonic.”

“Emrys,” Morgana repeated with a smile, making her seem even lovelier. She extended her hand to take the vial Emrys offered, thanking her as she did so.

“So, Emrys,” said the girl as her fierce green eyes slid over Emrys. “Why did Silas send _you_ instead of coming himself?”

“Guinevere,” Morgana hissed.

Emrys straightened her back, refusing to be intimidated by Guinevere. “Silas has taken me under his roof as an apprentice.”

Guinevere smiled as if Emrys had said something funny. “That’s an interesting job for a young girl, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s perfectly acceptable,” said Morgana. She glanced at Emrys’ basket. “Are those Arthur’s vitamins?”

Emrys, assuming they were, said, “Yes, princess.”

“Please, Emrys, call me Morgana. There’s no need for titles.”

“Actually,” said Guinevere, “there _is_ a need. That’s why we have titles in the first place, isn’t it?”

Morgana ignored her. “If you’re trying to find Arthur, don’t go to his chambers. He’ll most likely be found somewhere on the training grounds at this hour.”

Emrys gave Morgana something of a curtsey, locking eyes with Guinevere’s for a brief moment before leaving the room. She asked one of the guards to point her in the right direction and managed to make her way down without going past Uther’s room.

The sounds of swords clashing and laughter came to Emrys as she stepped outside. She’d expected the knights to be paired together, but they were all gathered around in a circle on the other side of the field.

Emrys crossed the field and found an opening in the group that she could squeeze through. Two boys—one obviously a knight—were sword fighting. Though one might have assumed that they were practicing, Emrys thought that it was just a way for the knight to embarrass the other boy.

She took a step backward to avoid the boy as the knight pushed him down to her feet. Closer up, Emrys realized he was dressed in serving clothes. He carried in his hands a wooden sword and shield.

The knight swung his sword around his wrist in figure eights, laughing. “Come on, Reuben,” he said as the boy picked himself up. “It’s like you’re not even trying!” He straightened his helmet.

“My apologies, sire,” said Reuben as he hid his lanky body behind the shield. “I’m ready now.” His body tensed, and he turned his face to the side to hide it behind the shield.

Emrys gasped as she caught sight of his familiar face before he was pushed to the ground again. His skin was a deep mahogany, and his twisted curls were the color of brown-ebony. Reuben’s wide lips parted slightly when his rich eyes fell on Emrys.

“Reuben,” she whispered incredulously. She hadn’t seen him in a long time, but she was certain it was he.

The knight he’d been fighting laughed again and Emrys turned her fierce eyes onto him. “Honestly, Reuben, you’re hardly a worthy opponent. I’ll have to find another if you can’t keep up.”

“Allow me to accommodate you,” said Emrys suddenly. She stepped forward, parting the crowd of knights around her. “Although, I’m almost certain you won’t enjoy it much.”

A rumble of laughter spread throughout the knights. The knight who’d fought Reuben seemed to laugh the loudest. “I’m sorry,” he said as he threw his sword into the ground. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I’m Emrys.”

“So I haven’t met you.”

“I try not to make a habit of conversing with jolt heads. I find it doesn’t stimulate me in the least.”

A knight to Emrys’ immediate left flipped some of his chestnut-colored hair out of his eyes. “Perhaps you’ve been searching for a stimulant in the wrong place. If I may be of any assistance—”

“Does that line usually work for you? Because if it doesn’t—and even if it does—it would benefit you to know that I’m not as easily impressed as one of your harlots might be,” Emrys warned.

The largest of the knights said, “Such a sharp tongue for such a small wench. You’d be wise to mind it, lest I cut it out for you.” He raised his sword for effect.

Emrys glanced up at the auburn haired knight, unaffected by his threat. His towering build was matched with broad shoulders and muscular arms. He was probably the second largest creature she’d seen in her life—the first being Baelfire. “I thought they’d killed off all the giants. Last of your kind, huh?”

“Easy, Percival,” said another knight, whose face was covered, as Percival took a step toward Emrys. “Don’t forget that we’re still in the presence of a woman.”

“How chivalrous,” Emrys grinned. “Read the knights’ handbook every night, do you?”

“Have you only come here to mock me and my knights, Emrys,” said the knight Reuben had fought.

“I’ll admit that I’d planned to do more than this today,” said Emrys, turning toward him. “And yet, here we are, aren’t we?”

“Perhaps things would be different if you could see who you’re talking to.” He reached up to remove his helmet.

Emrys raised a hand. “I beg you to leave your helmet as it is. I don’t know if I can stomach what lays underneath it.”

“D-do you know who you’re speaking to?” he asked loudly.

“Of course I do.” Emrys had known even before the knight had flung his helmet to the ground. She didn’t need to see his brilliant purple aura to know whom she was talking to. “You’re Arthur Pendragon.”

“So you _do_ know who I am,” said Arthur, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“Yes.”

“And you _still_ choose to speak to me like that?”

“Isn’t it customary to exchange insults before a fight?” When he didn’t respond, Emrys walked over to Percival and—after convincing him to stand still—removed his gauntlet and threw it at Arthur’s feet. “I, Emrys, challenge you, Arthur Pendragon, to a duel.”


	2. Fate in Motion (Emrys)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emrys challenges Arthur to a duel, which seems to be the start of everything she doesn't want.

Something like a chuckle passed through Arthur’s teeth. “You don’t honestly expect me to accept this, do you?”

“Why wouldn’t you? My challenge is completely legitimate,” Emrys declared. “Don’t be fooled by my appearance, Pendragon—I may be a girl, but I can fight as well as any man.” Emrys didn’t know if beating all the boys in her village counted—especially since none of them had been known for being particularly skilled in swordsmanship—but it was the best she had to offer.

“That doesn’t mean you should,” said Reuben suddenly. He turned toward Arthur with a bowed head. “Sire, I beg you to forgive her.”

“You know this wench,” said Percival as he picked his gauntlet off of the ground.

“N-no,” said Reuben quickly and Emrys flinched.

“But you’re asking that I forgive her,” Arthur noted.

Emrys placed her hands over her hips, dropping her basket to the ground. “That’s a pretty big request for someone you claim not to know.”

“I don’t affiliate myself with silly, little girls,” said Reuben indignantly.

“Silly, little girls?” Emrys roared.

“Well, I’d hardly mistake you as a woman. I’d be surprised if you’re any older than eighteen.”

“I’m seventeen,” said Emrys, the temperature in her cheeks rising as the knights laughed. “But women are invented through means of character; just as a boy becomes a man through his strength of heart. How useful is a woman with only a pretty face, who possesses no means with which to provide her husband with a challenge both intellectual and emotional? It would be better for the man to buy a dog since it would at least assist him in a hunt.”

Arthur laughed and stepped forward. “You argue with my manservant like an old soul mate.” The knights joined him in more laughter.

“Or siblings,” Emrys whispered. She knew Reuben had heard her when he looked away. Emrys turned back to Arthur and said, “You still haven’t given me your answer.”

Arthur smiled and shook his head, seemingly regarding her with the same amount of patience given to a young child. “I can’t accept your challenge, Emrys.”

“Is it because I’m a girl? Because I’ve already told you—”

“That’s part of it,” Arthur admitted. “But I don’t think you know that this challenge you’ve issued can only end in death, as written in the Knights’ Codes.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. A tragic end, really, but if it must come to that…”

“You’re determined to do this, aren’t you?”

“I’m determined to provide you with a worthy opponent.”

Arthur laughed once more. “Alright, then, Emrys,” he said after the longest time. “I accept.”

“Finally,” she said, turning to Percival. “I’ll need to borrow your sword.”

After much prompting from Arthur, Percival handed it over to her. “Careful,” he warned, “you might be too small for it.”

It was a magnificent piece of work but Emrys couldn’t help but note that it was longer than her forearm and much heavier than she’d anticipated. She refused to ask for another sword. “I’m sure you’ll find that I can manage just fine. Now give us room.”

Arthur smiled at her, holding his sword in such a way that the light that reflected off of the tip blinded Emrys’ eyes. “Think you can handle this, Emrys?”

“You’ve no idea what I can handle. But you’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“Not in the least.”

“Good.” Emrys swung her sword to catch Arthur’s as it came down on her. Despite her buckling knees, Emrys managed to summon the strength she needed to push Arthur away.

She’d planned on charging him while he was off-balance, but Arthur was quick to get back on his feet. She charged anyway, deciding that this was better than waiting for him to attack first again.

Arthur twirled around Emrys and poked her arse with the tip of his sword. Smiling as she whipped around to face him, he said, “I thought you promised me a challenge, Emrys.”

Emrys lunged at him a second time. “Aren’t you a little entertained, my lord?” She jumped when she felt the sharp prod of Arthur’s sword again.

“A little,” he admitted, holding the sword out toward her a third time to keep her at bay. “I’ll admit that this is the most interesting fight I’ve ever had.”

“And I’m just getting started,” Emrys huffed. It was at that moment that she realized she was out of breath and Arthur was perfectly fine. Through all of her insults, Emrys had forgotten that Arthur’s strength was unparalleled to anything she had to offer.

 _Almost_ anything she had to offer.

Emrys threw herself at Arthur to avoid the temptation of using her magic. Too late, she remembered his sword, and Emrys stumbled right into Arthur’s arms as she tried to avoid it.

He tightened his grip around her chest, restricting her arms to her side and locking her within his cage of broad shoulders and strong arms. No matter how much she struggled, Emrys couldn’t break free of him.

“I must disagree with your earlier statement, Reuben,” said Arthur in a loud voice. “As I hold her here, I tell you all truthfully that there may be something yet to define this wench as a woman!”

The knights laughed; Reuben looked away; Emrys’ face burned.

 _Use magic!_ her insides screamed. It dug into the earth, searching for the power it had to offer. She was beginning to slip out of herself. In moments, she would show him—show them all _exactly_ what she was capable of doing.

Emrys glanced up, catching sight of a pair of silver eyes watching over her, masked behind the clouds. Baelfire’s words rang through her mind, mocking her earlier confidence. It was enough to severe Emrys’ tie to her magic before she could start to make out the colorful auras of the knights around her.

“I can stop this,” Arthur said. His breath was hot in her ear, but it caused a shiver to run down her spine. “I can end your embarrassment right now. I’ll call off this fight if you apologize...and bow to me.” His chuckle rumbled deep within his chest.

She wanted to blow him away with air magic. She wanted to reveal her power and dare him to laugh at her again. She wanted him to realize exactly whom he was in the presence of.

The dragon eyes had left. Emrys pulled an image of the severed heads to the front of her mind, quelling her emotions long enough for her to think clearly. She didn’t need magic; she had a good head.

She stamped on Arthur’s foot, forcing him to fold over her. Before he could straighten up, Emrys pushed up on her legs and crashed her head into Arthur’s nose. She saw more than the colors of the auras around her as Arthur dropped her to the ground. Emrys scrambled to her feet, trying to think about her next move.

Arthur rubbed his nose and faced her. She realized that, despite her size, she was not quicker than him and lacked the years of training he had against her. It would only be a matter of time until she landed in her previous situation again.

She glanced up to see Arthur running toward her. On impulse, Emrys raised her sword, aimed for his head, and released it into the air. When he threw himself out of its pathway, she charged and brought him to the ground by his waist. She leaned forward, wrenched his sword from his hands, and propped herself up on one knee for balance. The tip of his sword was pressed into his neck hard enough to bruise.

His breathing was short and strained, and his eyes were wide with apparent shock. She wondered what he thought of her now, with his life in her possession.

If he thought she wouldn’t take his life, he was wrong. Emrys mulled over the idea as she stared into Arthur’s eyes. If there were any reason for Emrys not to take his life, she’d find it there.

His eyes held nothing. There was no fire within it, no desire to live. She doubted he would struggle against her if she were to press down on the sword. There was nothing great about this spoiled prince whose wide eyes begged for mercy. But he did not want to be saved; he _wanted_ her to take his life. She was vaguely aware of the knights unsheathing their swords behind her.

 _Leave him_ , her magic ordered her. It growled and paced in its cage, begging her to make a decision. _Finish him_ , another voice told her. This one was much darker; Emrys hadn’t heard from this voice in a while.

Something held Emrys there above Arthur. With a bone chilling thought, she realized that her magic had once again locked onto the earth’s power. Arthur stared back at her as if he could see her mental struggle. He shifted ever so slightly underneath her, as if he was testing her hold on the sword. His hair fell over the grass, mixing in with her fingers.

Her stomach folded over itself eight times; her mind reeled with ancient chants; her heart strained to beat against the crushing force of the earth’s magic. The only thing holding her there, keeping her rooted to that earth was this boy.

This boy—this boy who did not desire to live, who knew nothing of the destiny the gods had written for him, whose blue eyes held hers with such an intensity that she thought he could see into her very soul—she would _make_ him great. She could see it. It had been set this way since the moment she had been born. She couldn’t escape it, no matter how much she wanted to.

It was her destiny. _And destinies_ , her dark voice whispered, _were meant to be followed._

With a gasp, Emrys broke free of her magic’s hold and stood up, planting the sword into the grass. She considered offering her hand to help Arthur to his feet but decided against it. She didn’t want to touch him again.

Arthur sat up, one hand around his throat. “You cheated!”

“I won,” Emrys said with a frown.

“You threw a bloody sword at my head,” he roared, rising to his feet. “Were you trying to kill me?”

“If I’d wanted you dead, I would’ve taken my chance just now.” She crossed her arms over her chest, deepening her frown. “You’re not very grateful for someone whose life was just spared. My victory should have called for your death.”

“This doesn’t count as a victory. You didn’t win; you cheated!”

“I didn’t realize you were such a sore loser, Arthur Pendragon.”

“I demand a rematch,” said Arthur in a low growl.

Emrys swept Arthur underneath her cool gaze and picked up her basket. “No, thank you, but you’ve nothing to fear, Pendragon; I won’t brag about this. You’re right to say that I haven’t been completely fair to you.”

Arthur smiled. “So you admit it?”

“Of course. I never should’ve challenged you before you had a chance to take these,” she said as she handed Arthur his vitamins. “I mean, you never would’ve won anyway, but at least now you have proof that you were impaired.”

“I don’t need vitamins to beat a _girl_ in a swordfight.”

Emrys’ face burned with indignity. “Obviously you don’t need vitamins to _lose_ to one either.” She glanced to her left, locking eyes with Reuben. “You’ll see that your prince takes his vitamins after he’s done with his fit, won’t you?”

“Where are you going,” Arthur demanded as Emrys parted the knights.

“It would seem that now _I’m_ the one in need of a worthy opponent. Until next we meet, knights, Reuben, Arthur Pendragon,” she called over her shoulder.

Emrys could feel her entire being scream in protest as she walked away from the field. She shouldn’t have met him, engaged him, and tempted her fate. Her senses were open to him. Their connection had been established. There would be no escaping her destiny now. Her only hope now was for Baelfire to make her immortal.

As she walked, Emrys became increasingly aware of a pain that was beginning to settle over her stomach. When she reached the castle gate, the pain became so much that she almost doubled over. She did, however, stumble backwards.

Someone reached out and caught her arm, steadying her. “Easy, Emrys.”

Emrys knew from the sound of his voice that it was Reuben. She pulled away from him and took a step toward the castle, the pain dulling slightly.

“That was rather unnecessary back there, don’t you think?”

“Not when you compare it to you pretending that you don’t know me,” she shot back. “I’m surprised you’re even talking to me now, since you claim that you don’t associate with ‘silly, little girls’.” The words stung even more now.

Reuben ignored her. “I would advise you to choose your actions more carefully in the future, lest you get me into trouble or find it yourself.”

“Yes, because we wouldn’t want _that_ , would we?”

He was silent for a moment, narrowing his eyes at her. Then, with a sudden movement, he gripped her shoulders and began shaking her violently. “What is wrong with you, Emrys? Why are _you_ in _Camelot_? It’s not safe here. Not for you,” he hissed.

Her magic—and her sickness—resurfaced to the top, threatening to bubble over. She fixed her eyes on Reuben’s, swallowing her urge. “Let go of me,” she ordered.

“Is everything alright, Emrys,” said Silas as he came across the pair. He stopped when his eyes fell on Reuben.

Reuben released Emrys and turned toward Silas with fierce eyes. “When you said that you would be taking a ward into your household, you neglected to mention it was my sister.”

Now it was Emrys’ turn to look at Silas. “You knew he was here and you didn’t tell me?”

Silas rubbed his temple and said, “I was waiting for the proper time. I didn’t think the two of you would meet—”

“You sent me to Arthur without thinking that I would chance upon my brother, his manservant?”

“I’m an old man, Emrys! Have _some_ pity on me—I’m hardly perfect and I’m very likely to forget things at my age.”

“Did you also forget that she’s to stay away from Arthur,” Reuben asked suddenly.

Emrys turned on Reuben with fierce eyes. “Who gave you permission to decide such things?”

“Mother did, unless you’ve forgotten.”

“Could you blame me? You haven’t even sent me as much as a letter in the past _ten_ years yet suddenly you think you can decide things in my life?”

He scoffed. “I’d hardly say _I’m_ the one who’s decided things for your life, wouldn’t you?”

“That’s enough, you two,” said Silas sternly, glancing around at the aristocrats who passed them. “Emrys, I think it’s time I took you home before the ceremonies start.”

Emrys opened her mouth to protest as Silas prompted her to the gate, but instead she cried out in pain and doubled over.

“Emrys,” someone said above her. She couldn’t distinguish whose voice it was—maybe both of them had yelled.

A pair of arms pulled Emrys away from the gate, far enough that her pain seemed only minimal. After a few deep breathes, Emrys was able to stand again.

“Emrys, are you alright,” said Silas, peering into her eyes. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” she mumbled. “My magic’s a little hard to control.” She tried not to think about what Baelfire had said.

“It’s never been this bad, has it? You’ve never been in pain before.”

“It just started. Ever since—”

“Ever since you made a magical connection with Arthur,” Reuben answered. “This is why I wanted to keep her away from him. Don’t you remember what the Elders said, Emrys? If you and Arthur share a magical connection, your destiny is set.”

“But I haven’t used magic all day,” cried Emrys, trying not to panic. “And besides, I saw Arthur earlier today and I was perfectly fine.”

“ _Connection_ ,” Reuben repeated. “Seeing someone isn’t the same as physically connecting with them. When you challenged Arthur earlier, your magical life force must’ve bound you to him.”

Emrys was starting to feel sick again, but this sickness came from the uneasiness that the talk of her destiny aroused in her stomach.

“Emrys, you challenged Arthur,” Silas exclaimed. “You could be jailed and executed for that!”

“Not now, Uncle.” Emrys glanced at the gate. “What does this mean?”

“It seems to me,” said Reuben as he pushed Emrys toward the castle, eyeing her reaction, “that your sickness gets worse as you get closer to the gate—farther from Arthur.”

“Your magic is literally forcing you to stay by Arthur’s side,” Silas concluded.

Reuben nodded. “And until you accept it, fate is going to do all it can to push you two together.”

Suddenly, a terrified scream split the air. Without hesitation, Emrys followed the sound deep into the castle, where a crowd had already begun to form in an obscure hallway. She made her way to the front of the crowd, freezing when her eyes fell upon the body.

Even in death, the girl was beautiful. Her blue eyes were glazed over, unfocused but peaceful. Her blonde hair was curled underneath her head like a pillow. A tray of cookies lay perfectly scattered around her. There was nothing painful about the way her body was slumped against the floor. Had her eyes been closed, Emrys would’ve thought the girl was sleeping.

But she wasn’t sleeping. Silas, who parted the crowd of murmuring aristocrats with a firm order, confirmed the girl’s death.

“That’s Vera,” Reuben whispered as he edged Emrys to the back. “She was Morgana’s handmaiden.”

Emrys glanced up at Morgana, who was on the other side of the crowd. The princess had no tears in her eyes, but the lower half of her jaw was set. Guinevere stood beside her, looking at anything but Vera’s body.

Without adding much thought to her actions, Emrys left her brother’s side and made her way over to Morgana. “Are you alright, princess?”

“She’s fine,” Guinevere hissed between her teeth, glaring at Emrys.

Morgana touched Guinevere’s arm lightly and nodded at Emrys. “Thank you for your concern, Emrys. I’m just shocked.”

“I’m so sorry, princess.”

A door at the end of the hallway burst open, and Uther Pendragon entered, his cloak billowing behind him. He strode up to Morgana without even glancing at Emrys, who avoided his eyes. “Morgana, are you alright? What happened?”

“I don’t know—she was like this when I got here.” Emrys caught the slightest crack in Morgana’s voice. As Uther moved away from Morgana, Emrys offered her comfort, surprised when the princess took her hand.

“Arthur,” said Uther suddenly, his gaze passing just over Emrys’ head.

Emrys didn’t turn around to confirm Arthur’s presence. She feared that her magic would explode within her; her control weakened when Arthur’s fingers grazed her arm as he reached forward to touch his sister.

She turned her face away so that Arthur wouldn’t notice her. Emrys looked at Reuben, taking deep breaths. Her magic was in her throat, clutching her body with a grip so demanding she thought the sickness had returned. But the sickness had gone, disappearing the moment Arthur had arrived.

Sudden panic flashed over Reuben’s face. He motioned toward her eyes, which had begun to burn. Emrys knew that, in just a few short moments, her magic would be released.

Without letting go of Morgana’s hand, Emrys grabbed her right arm and dug her nails into her skin. She bit back the sting of the physical pain, relaxing as her magic crept away. No blood had been drawn, but the pain had been enough to give her magic a different task—healing.

She wondered what color her eyes had taken, what element her emotions had almost called, what manner of death Uther would’ve demanded. Perhaps he was still in the mood to spear another head.

“I can’t seem to figure out why Vera died,” said Silas, pulling Emrys away from her thoughts. “It’s a mystery, sire.”

“Not a mystery, Silas, _magic_. There’s sorcery in Camelot. It’s the one from before,” Uther growled. “Arthur, escort our guests to the great hall while I deal with this.”

Arthur nodded, every bit the dutiful prince that he was expected to be. Emrys suspected he only played the part well, thinking back to the side of him that she’d seen out on the field.

No wonder she’d found no greatness in him! This Arthur was a fake. The Arthur she’d challenged was nothing short of a prat, but Emrys knew that he’d been real. At least, Prat Arthur was probably closer to being the real Arthur Pendragon than Prince Arthur.

Prince Arthur nodded and led the muttering aristocrats away. As he left, he caught Emrys’ eyes. If he recognized her, his face didn’t betray it. Arthur continued out of the hall without taking another glance at Emrys.

“Morgana, please return to your chambers,” said Uther. “Guinevere will serve as Vera’s substitute until I can provide a proper replacement.”

“Father, if I may,” said Morgana, stepping forward. “I already have someone that I would like to suggest.” She pulled Emrys to her side, unaware of Emrys’ growing uneasiness. “This is Emrys. With your permission, Father, I’d like Emrys to be my next handmaiden.”

Emrys squirmed underneath Uther’s stare. The king studied her intently, his frown deepening with each passing moment. She held her breath and forced herself to hold Uther’s gaze.

Finally, Uther shook his head and said, “I appreciate your thoughts, Morgana, but I cannot agree to this. We hardly know this girl.”

“Yes, but I trust her to take care of me tonight.”

“What else do you have to justify your trust besides your blind faith?”

“Sire,” said Silas, “this is the young girl I mentioned taking in. As her guardian, I’ve been able to observe her, and I can assure you that you needn’t worry about her character.”

Uther returned his gaze to Emrys, hastily saying, “Because I value your counsel, Silas, and because I simply have no time to waste on this matter, I will allow this girl to act as Morgana’s handmaiden for the night.”

“Thank you, Father,” said Morgana smiling.

“Arthur’s servant Reuben will show you what I expect of you tonight,” he said to Emrys. To Morgana: “I’ll see you at the ceremonies.” Though Uther’s tone was friendly enough, Emrys could sense the formal dismissal behind his words.

“I apologize for making this decision so impulsively, Emrys,” said Morgana as she led Emrys, Guinevere, and Reuben into the next hallway. “Vera was lovely, but she was still one of my father’s choosing. I realized as my father was speaking that this was my chance to have a handmaiden I approved of.”

“You approve of this homely wench,” said Guinevere, narrowing her eyes at Emrys.

Emrys could feel her magic swelling again. Oh, how it begged to silence Guinevere! _Pretty girl_ , said a dark voice. _Pretty girl! Pretty face! Easy to ruin_. She almost let it. Instead, she turned toward Morgana and said, “I am immensely grateful for your trust, princess, but I’m surprised to find your trust so easily.”

“I’m a little surprised myself,” Morgana admitted. “There’s something about you that I feel inexplicably drawn to. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I just have a feeling that you’re very special, Emrys.” Morgana chuckled as she entered her chambers. “I didn’t realize how silly that sounded until I spoke it aloud.”

“Emrys,” said Reuben, standing away from Morgana’s chambers.

As Emrys turned to follow her brother, Guinevere said, “I would advise paying close attention to what he says if you would like to make it through tonight.” A taunting smirk stretched across her face. “I’m afraid I don’t have much hope for you.”

“Emrys,” Reuben said again, this time to stop her from following Guinevere through the door. “Don’t instigate this matter further.”

“She’s the one who started it!”

“Never mind her, now.”

“But she’s right, Reuben! I’ll never last the night!”

“You will, Emrys,” he assured her. “I’ll teach you how to survive in this place.”


	3. A Night Of Destiny (Emrys)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emrys' next move at this banquet could seal her fate, but is she strong enough to walk away from the person destiny calls her to?

Emrys wrung her hands in the skirts of her dress, taking deep breaths through her nose to calm herself. She smoothed her dress down for the fifth time and released her hair from its restraint so that she could run her fingers through that instead.

Emrys could hear muffled music from the other side of the doors to the great hall. She’d been standing outside those doors for at least an hour—and if Emrys had it her way, she’d stand there all night. If Arthur were any later, she would probably get her wish.

Arthur was Morgana’s escort for the evening, but he and Reuben had yet to arrive. Emrys knew from the sickness growing in the pit of her stomach that Arthur was definitely on his way.

“What are you _doing_ , Emrys,” said Guinevere as she watched Emrys twirl her hair around her finger. “You’re making me anxious.”

“I’m fixing my hair.”

Guinevere gave Emrys a cruel smile and said, “Oh, don’t bother yourself with that. No one will be looking in _your_ direction.”

With some difficulty, Emrys refrained from responding. She reminded herself that she would no longer be working with Guinevere after tonight.

“Guinevere, please,” said Morgana patiently. “Emrys has never served at the castle before. I’m sure you’ve done nothing to calm any nerves she might have.”

The sickness in Emrys’ stomach disappeared abruptly. She glanced up to see Reuben rounding the corner at the end of the hall. “Finally,” she hissed as he made his way over to her. “Where’ve you been?”

“Come on,” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the other end of the hallway. “We have to leave.”

“Why?”

“There you are, Arthur,” said Morgana as Reuben stepped in front of Emrys, blocking her view of the prince. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me. Did you mean to have me stand here all night?”

Emrys thought she heard a smile in Arthur’s voice. “I assure you that wasn’t my intention. You could even say that my tardiness is beneficial to you, Morgana. You’ve missed all the boring parts now.”

“I doubt Father will appreciate our absence from his speech.”

“He’ll make plenty more tonight, I’m sure.”

Guinevere frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Morgana has been beside herself with worry all this time. Do you think you’re helping?”

“My sister’s got plenty of help. Father says that I won’t have Reuben’s full attention, as he’s required to be available to instruct your _new_ servant.” There was some type of unspoken question shared between their silences.

“I expect to return Reuben to you soon,” said Morgana.

“I also hear your new servant is to be tested in tonight’s ceremonies.”

Morgana sighed and tossed a quick glance at Guinevere. “Be more careful about your gossiping, Guinevere.” She brushed back some of her long hair. “It’s true that Father’s watching her, but I have full faith in my girl. She’s quite remarkable, Arthur.”

“She must be if you chose her without knowing anything about her. Where is she?”

“Come on,” Reuben hissed in Emrys’ ear. He grabbed her wrist and moved to pull her away.

Arthur’s back stiffened, as if he could feel her presence. He turned suddenly, and, locking eyes with her, cried, “You! Reuben, remain where you are.” He threw his shoulders back and lifted his chin as he crossed the distance between them. He carried himself with such authority that Emrys almost thought that he was coming at her as Prince Arthur. The maddened look in his eye told her that she was indeed in the presence of _Prat_ Arthur.

Emrys was suddenly aware of the stillness in the room. Her magic leapt in its cage, begging to be joined with Arthur. She took a deep breath and silenced the urge by crossing her arms over her chest.

For a moment, Emrys forgot all of her wit and took a moment to really admire him. The prince was, actually, quite handsome. His blond hair had been slicked back behind his ears, drawing even more attention to his illustrious eyes, the color of cornflower. His red tunic was embroidered with gold stitching and tied with a massive belt.

“What are you doing here,” he asked. “Have you come back to mock me again?”

“Another time, perhaps,” Emrys said with a voice that attempted formality, “I understand you’re already late enough. I’d hate for you to be later just because you have this silly notion of delayed revenge.”

His eyes narrowed and his voice lowered to a growl. “I should have you thrown in jail for attacking me.”

“And ruin all the fun?” She tsked at the prince. “I’d rather you just admit your defeat than lock me up to save face.”

“Defeat,” said Guinevere with a raised eyebrow. “What’s she talking about, Arthur?”

Arthur rubbed the nape of his neck, glancing away from Emrys. Before he could open his mouth, Morgana turned around and said, “Arthur lost a Knight’s Challenge to Emrys this afternoon.”

Arthur groaned. “I did _not_ lose the fight. She threw a sword at my head.”

A large smile spread across Morgana’s face. “Yes, Gwaine told me that. But I’m afraid you will have to set your animosity aside for the moment. I intend for Emrys to be here for a while, and I won’t have you doing anything to change that.” Her face darkened with authority. “Does my little brother understand me?”

Arthur stared down his sister. Once again, another silent conversation passed between them. Though he was more than a few inches taller than her, he seemed to buckle underneath her gaze. Finally, Arthur looked away.

“Fine,” he grumbled. Arthur locked eyes with Emrys. “I won’t do anything. But that doesn’t mean she won’t mess up on her own.”

Morgana nodded and slipped her arm through Arthur’s, pulling him away. “Good. Well, now that that’s been settled, I believe that we must be getting to the ceremonies now, Arthur.”

Arthur glanced at Reuben. “Reuben, take Emrys to the kitchens and get us some wine.” His gaze returned to Emrys. “Good luck—I’m sure you’ll need it.” He waited for Reuben to open the doors and then disappeared inside.

Emrys caught sight of the feast that awaited them through the crack of the giant doors. Festive music and laughter flooded into the hallway. The aristocrats sat at the far end of the room, talking and eating wildly.

“Stop staring,” Reuben hissed into Emrys’ ear. “You’re here to work, remember?”

Emrys followed Reuben down to the kitchens. It was even noisier than the great hall. Servants shifted in and out of the area so fast that Emrys could hardly tell what was going on. Her nostrils filled with the scent of all of the different types of food around her. She had never smelled food so delicious before.

“Come on,” Reuben told her. He led her to a table on the far side of the room. “Pick up a jug and fill it with wine.”

She did as he commanded. Emrys filled the jug to a reasonable amount—she still had to carry it back up the steps to the ceremony. Reuben’s back stiffened as he walked back up the steps. Against her better judgment, Emrys said, “Arthur seems beastly.”

For a while, she thought he wouldn’t answer. Finally, Reuben smiled. “He’s a nightmare most days.” He glanced at Emrys and said, “All right, all days, really.”

“And you’ve put up with him for ten years,” she asked. Emrys shook her head and laughed. She realized suddenly that this wasn’t where she had wanted to go with their conversation. Emrys closed her mouth and followed Reuben through a different staircase that led to a door on the other side of the great hall.

Reuben stopped before the door. “Have you forgotten anything I’ve told you?”

Emrys shook her head, breathing deeply through her nose.

“How are you doing so far?”

“Fairly well. Morgana’s been kind to me.”

“Yes, Morgana’s much different than Arthur,” he said after a while, almost in a whisper.

“She’s very beautiful, isn’t she? She asked me to pick out her dress tonight,” said Emrys proudly, clutching the jug of wine to her chest. “Guinevere tried to tell her to wear this hideous orange dress, but Morgana asked for _my_ opinion instead.”

Reuben pushed open the door and turned his head in the direction of the princess. The back of the chair covered most of her dress, but Morgana’s body was positioned in a way that some of it could still be seen. Emrys knew that a different angle would really give Morgana’s dress justice.

From the front, one would see that Morgana’s dress hugged her shoulders. The purple silk desperately clung to her curves, as if the dress itself hated the idea of being parted from her. Curled pieces of silver outlined the basque waistline, drawing even more attention to her defined hips. There was not a male in the room who wasn’t stealing looks at Morgana every chance they could.

“She looks beautiful,” Reuben finally said.

Emrys stepped into the room after him, her eyes on Arthur, who had suddenly turned to look at her. Uther broke off his conversation to look at Emrys, too. She worried for a moment that the king would hail her over. To her luck, she was called over to the knights’ table first.

Emrys tried to remember to keep her eyes lowered as she began to refill some of their goblets. She was aware as she positioned her face behind her hair that she had someone’s eyes on her. When Emrys got to the fourth knight, he grabbed her wrist and peered into her face.

Emrys met the knight’s green eyes. “Now _you_ look familiar,” he said, frowning as he tried to place the memory. He reeked of wine already. “Where have I seen your pretty little face before?”

She resisted the urge to snatch her hand away for fear that she would drop the wine. She glanced up quickly and saw that Uther was watching her—the entire royal family was watching her. Emrys took a deep breath and said, “Forgive me, but I don’t know what you’re referring to, Sir Knight.”

“Ah, yes, where are my manners? I’m Sir Heior, knight of Camelot.” He drained his goblet in one long gulp and looked up at Emrys expectantly. “There’s a good girl,” he said as she poured more wine. Heior took a small sip, pushed some of his dark blond hair to the side of his face, and looked over Emrys with hungry eyes. “Such a pretty little serving girl…”

Emrys looked away, catching another knight’s eye. “Don’t you remember the story I told to Morgana, Heior?” he said, not taking his eyes off of Emrys. “This is the girl who gave the prince what for during training this afternoon.” He smiled and motioned her over.

“Is it safe for me to assume that you’re Sir Gwaine?”

“Yes, but you can forget formalities if you’d like, Emrys. I have a feeling we will become _quite_ close soon,” he purred. “I had no idea you were a servant here.”

“Only recently, _Sir_ Gwaine,” said Emrys as she returned to standing position. “Princess Morgana has requested my services only for tonight’s ceremonies.”

“Hopefully, we can make that position permanent.”

“Yes,” said Heior, holding up his empty goblet again. “There are so few serving girls here who are actually worth the attention of knights.”

Emrys forced herself to smile. “You flatter me, Sir Heior. But, alas, my fate is not my own to determine.”

“Hey, wench,” said Percival, giving Emrys a cruel smile as she turned to glare at him. “You’re wanted.”

Emrys looked and saw Reuben motioning to her by the far end of the wall. To her side, Uther was preparing to rise again, probably to give another speech. She realized most of the other servants were gathering by the wall as well. Emrys tried her best to make sure she didn’t bump into anyone. She held onto the firm belief that if she followed everything her brother had told her, she would be free. Then all she would have to worry about was her magical connection to Arthur.

Baelfire would know of a way to break it. He knew how to save her from her early death—surely knowing how to break a magical connection would be considered common knowledge for him.

Emrys was jarred from her thoughts as her shoulder caught onto another’s. The jug of wine fell from her hands and broke against the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. Emrys stood frozen in horror, staring down at the broken pottery. Uther cleared his throat, and Emrys was suddenly aware of all of the eyes that were on her.

Emrys looked up at the person she’d bumped into. Though his rough face seemed familiar, she couldn’t seem to place it within her memories. He pushed past her with a frown and Emrys could’ve sworn that she’d seen his eyes turn green before she bent down to pick up the shattered pottery pieces.

“My deepest apologies, my lord,” Emrys mumbled, trying not to focus on the glaring monarch above her. “I’ll have this cleaned immediately.”

“Leave it,” Uther barked. “I knew you weren’t fit to serve in this castle. You are dismissed.”

“Sire,” Silas whispered, rising from the table. “I implore you to overlook the matter. I’m sure it was an accident.”

Uther raised a hand to dismiss the thought. “No. I’m sorry, Silas. I gave this girl a chance, but it’s obvious that she isn’t ready.” He turned his head back to Emrys. “Leave.”

She had been dismissed. She would not serve Morgana or be in the presence of Arthur or her brother anymore. She was free. She had been freed from her destiny. Relief washed over her, and a warm feeling spread through her body.

At the same time, a small part of her felt as if it was tumbling off the side of the earth. She was disappointed? But this was what she had wanted. She had wanted release, and she had gotten it. She didn’t need immortality; she didn’t need to stay in Camelot; she could _leave_ and be _free_.

And yet, even as she thought this, Emrys knew that she didn’t believe it. She looked up and realized that Uther had moved on and begun his speech. Arthur was facing forward, but Emrys thought she saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his ears. Morgana had her hands clenched at her sides. Guinevere, who was sitting by Arthur, was the only one who was looking directly at Emrys, and it was with a smile so haughty and malicious that Emrys could actually feel the distance between them.

Reuben placed his hands over her own, drawing her attention away from Guinevere. “Emrys,” he whispered. “Come on. Someone else will get this. Let’s get you back to your chambers.” He pulled his sister to her feet and led her out the servants’ door in the back of the room.

Emrys waited until she could no longer hear Uther before she said anything. She stopped just outside of the great hall and said, “Reuben, I...”

“That was quite brilliant, Emrys,” said Reuben suddenly, turning on her with a smile. “I should’ve thought to mention Uther’s temper earlier, but I suppose your magic—”

“I didn’t use any magic. I can’t.”

His smile fell. “What do you mean you can’t? What happened?” He turned her palms over, checking for scrapes. “Are you hurt somewhere?”

“No, no,” she said, taking her hands away from him. “I...I made a deal with a dragon.”

“You found a _dragon_?”

“Well, yes and no. I didn’t really _find_ him; he came to me in a vision. But I promised not to use my magic for the rest of today. What happened in there was just an accident.” She was still trying to make sense of the man she had seen inside. “But, Reuben, there was a man back there…”

“Oh, I’m sure,” said Reuben suddenly, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from the great hall again. “I saw the way that Heior grabbed you. You’ll want to stay away from him. He doesn’t have the best reputation among the knights.”

“No, not Heior. This man’s eyes—I saw them change colors.”

Reuben stopped in his tracks. “Are you absolutely certain, Emrys?”

“Yes. The man had magic. I’m sure of it.”

Reuben shook his head and paced around the hallway. “That doesn’t make any sense, Emrys. No one in their right mind would want to be so close to Uther when they have magic.”

“Noren,” Emrys breathed, remembering the man from the courtyard. She gasped suddenly as pain clutched at her stomach. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t fight off the premonition that was coming. A rush of emotions and thoughts that weren’t hers flowed through her. _Fear. Anger. Confusion._

 

_Noren, his eyes now a chilling blue, turned to Arthur, who crawled across the floor in an attempt to escape. The young prince looked up to his frozen father, realizing that help would not come and death was imminent. He fell to the sorcerer’s feet after receiving a well-placed kick to his chest._

_Noren held a dagger by its tip and aimed it at Arthur, who had resorted to crawling again. His eyes widened in shock as the weapon plunged into his chest, his face forever frozen in that state of confusion._

 

“Emrys,” said Reuben, holding her up by her shoulders, forcing her back into reality. “What’s wrong?”

“Arthur,” she managed to get out. Without thinking, Emrys spun around and ran back down the hallway and up the stairs. She became acutely aware of the silence that led into the great hall when she found the servants’ entrance blocked. Emrys pounded on the wooden door, screaming, “Arthur!”

At first, all she heard was silence. But then the door swung back, revealing the ongoing celebrations. She stepped inside, searching for Arthur by the royal table. He wasn’t there; he was standing in the middle of the hall. Relief washed over her. Arthur was safe.

And he was staring at her. Once again, everyone’s eyes were on Emrys.

“You insolent, wretched girl,” scream Uther as he stood up. For a moment, Emrys feared that he would have her head even without knowing her secret. “Where do you get the audacity to return?”

“Forgive the intrusion, my lord,” said Emrys, managing a quick, apologetic bow before continuing, “but this is a matter of the utmost importance. There is a—”

“I will not stand for this manner of disrespect. Guards, seize her.”

At once, two men slipped their arms through both of Emrys’ and began pulling her away. She struggled against them, but to no avail did she break free. “Sire, _please_ , I beg you to listen to me. There is a sorcerer here in the castle as we speak!” Out of all the people the guards dragged her past—Arthur, Gwaine, Heior, Percival, the aristocrats—Emrys finally caught sight of the man she’d been looking for, standing just behind the royal table. “There,” she cried, using the small amount of freedom she had to point into the crowd. “He’s there! The sorcerer is there!”

The guards froze in their places. All faces turned to Noren, whose gaze was locked on Emrys. His sea green eyes narrowed as though to caution her. His brows knit together and his lips turned into a frown. Then, before Uther could even begin to give the order for his arrest, Noren’s lips curled into a snarl and, with a flash of movement that caused the guards to drop Emrys’ arms, he slid his arm around Morgana’s neck.

The knights shouted in warning, drawing their swords. Many aristocrats fled the room. Noren faced the hall and lifted Morgana until she had to pedal backwards to stay upright. A flash of silver sent chills down Emrys’ spine. Noren had kept a small dagger holstered to his thigh. It threatened to end Morgana’s life with one wrong move.

Arthur stormed forward, armed with his personal sword. “Unhand her, sorcerer!”

“Your majesty,” said one of the knights, “give the order!”

Uther looked out from under drawn eyebrows. “Release the princess, Noren. You have no quarrel with her.”

“No,” Noren growled in a voice so low that, if not for the complete silence of the room, would go unheard in the large hall. “She’s important—insurance that I’ll be able to exact my revenge without fail. You’d never risk Princess Morgana’s life.” It was not a question. Noren proved it by dragging Morgana away from the table.

Uther refused to remove his eyes from the sorcerer. “I do not make deals with sorcerers. You _will_ release your hold on my daughter, and you _will_ face the justice you deserve for your crimes of sorcery.”

“Yes, yes,” Noren said impatiently. “But, first, my king, I want to know what this one knows.” He turned and used the dagger to point to Emrys.

Emrys kept her eyes steady on the dagger’s point. “I’m no one,” she said quickly, still forming a plan in her mind. “I’m just a serving girl—”

“You might know more than you realize, girl. A lot of energy went into the spell to disguise me, yet you recognized me with ease. What is it you know?”

“I know that you should’ve released the princess when you had the chance.” In one quick movement, Emrys turned to the guard on her right, unsheathed his dagger, and flung the weapon at Noren. Noren released the princess, crying out in pain and clutching at his bleeding left eye. She rushed forward and pulled the princess back behind the safety of the table.

“Seize him,” Uther cried, though the knights had already begun to move toward the sorcerer.

All at once, Emrys felt connected to her magic. She realized, too late, that Noren was preparing his. The temptation to use her own was so great that it left Emrys gasping for breath.

Noren’s visible eye turned bright blue. “ _Cysgu ddefod o ffordd ceed_.” The knights crowding him stopped what they were doing. Following the movements of Noren’s right hand, the knights formed a protective circle around their master, facing the remaining crowd.

The sorcerer extended his hand toward the king and whispered, “ _Coffi oer_.” Emrys didn’t have to see his damaged eye to know that it was turning green. Ice shot out from his hand and encased the king, freezing the monarch in his place. Silas rushed over to the king to try and reverse the effect.

Arthur, with a vicious yell, charged forward with his sword drawn high. He was met with a brutal blow to his chest given by one of the knights. The young prince fell to the floor, his sword sliding away from him.

“Ah, yes,” said Noren quietly, turning to face him. “Prince Arthur Pendragon. I think I know exactly what to do with you.” With a flick of his wrist, the knights broke their formation. Most of them stood in front of the royal table, blocking the view of the prince from everyone but Uther. The rest formed a smaller circle around Arthur and Noren, their swords drawn.

“You see, Uther,” said Noren, striding up to the frozen king, “now you’ll understand how it feels to be subjected to the abuse of power. Though your son’s life could never amount to the value of the lives you’ve stolen, it’ll be sufficient enough to get my point across.” He looked back at Arthur, who was on his feet again.

The knights in the circle, like puppets on strings, moved clumsily around the prince. Arthur did his best to avoid hurting them—he tried calling their names to bring them back to their senses. Emrys realized just how much the prince had been holding back on her in their match. He managed to disarm a few before Heior struck him on the back.

A hand on her arm made her jump, but she relaxed when she recognized the touch as her brother’s. “Reuben,” she whispered.

“Come, Emrys,” he whispered back, pulling her away from Gwaine and Percival, their puppet guards. “I must get you and the princess to safety.”

“No,” she said firmly, stepping away from him. She tried not to wince at the sound of Arthur taking another blow. “Take Morgana and Guinevere if you must. I have to do something. Arthur will die if I don’t.”

Reuben held her gaze for a moment before nodding. “Don’t do anything reckless,” he warned her. He turned to Morgana and said, “Princess, I must get you to safety. Please follow me.” He extended his hand to Guinevere, who hurried through the servants’ exit and down the hall.

Emrys glanced at Morgana, whose eyes betrayed her confliction. “I’ll bring your brother back,” she promised. “Please get to somewhere safe.” Another blow went to Arthur. She turned away from the exit as her brother and Morgana disappeared into the darkness below and faced Gwaine and Percival.

Emrys took a deep breath and swallowed her magic back. She didn’t know how she was going to save the prince without it, but she knew that she had to at the very least try. Though Gwaine and Percival were still under the control of Noren, it was obvious that they weren’t the focus of the sorcerer’s attention. Emrys slipped between them and glanced around the room, looking for something to aid her.

Directly above Noren was a chandelier. If she could make it to the rope, she could break Noren’s concentration and break the spells he had used. She started to make her way past the other knights when she was stopped by Arthur’s cry.

Noren turned to Arthur, who crawled across the floor in an attempt to escape. The young prince looked up to his frozen father, realizing that help would not come and death was imminent. He fell to the sorcerer’s feet after receiving a well-placed kick to his chest.

Noren held his dagger by its tip and aimed it at Arthur, who had resorted to crawling again. Emrys raced the weapon to its target, the folds of her dress billowing around her like a protective shield in front of Arthur. Pain erupted in her left thigh as the dagger met a new target and Emrys fell to her knees.

Noren bent down and seized Emrys by her neck. He brought her face up to his, peering into her eyes. When she kicked her good leg at him, he hardly flinched against the pain. “What secrets do you possess, girl?”

“Get away from her,” Arthur commanded with a guttural yell. He found the strength to sit up on his knees.

Noren ignored him. “Your secrets will be mine soon. _Mae mam y muses, cofroddian! I ddenu fi!_ ”

Emrys could feel his magic seeping into her. She kicked again and clawed at the hand on her neck, but Noren did not release her. She could see the chandelier’s rope on the wall behind him, but she would never get to it in this position. Images flashed in her mind. Noren was searching for the truth of her being.

She searched for her magic, but it was busy healing her wound. All of her energy had been directed to relieving the physical pain that the dagger was inflicting. Her magic was not available to her, no matter how much she called it.

 _Not your magic_ , a little voice said to her. _Use your_ _connection with the prince. The Once and Future King._

Emrys didn’t question it. She could feel Arthur’s hand on the skirts of her dress as he tried to pull her away from Noren, could sense the energy in his body. With a sigh, she allowed herself the relief of connecting to the earth’s magic, and felt her magic merge with Arthur.

There was just enough energy between the two of them for Emrys to use. She knew no spells, but Emrys had never needed spells. Her eyes burned and she knew that they were turning white, the color of the winter moon. She knew that Noren had stopped the invasion of her mind—he knew _exactly_ what she was now. Still, she focused on the chandelier’s rope, willing the strands to break.

With a _snap!_ the rope broke in two, and the chandelier fell. Noren dropped Emrys to the ground in shock, and Emrys braced herself against the pain she knew was sure to come.

It never came. At least, not for Emrys, it didn’t.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around her body. Emrys didn’t have time to think about the events that were happening as Arthur rolled his body over hers and out of harm’s way. The two collapsed in a heap on the floor, mere inches away from Noren, whose head had been crushed by the weight of the chandelier.

Silence fell across the room as the spells lifted. The knights flexed their muscles, relieved to see that they indeed were in control. The ice on the king began to melt. Blood pounded against Emrys’ eardrums as the realization of what she had done settled.

Arthur let out a small groan as he pushed himself up into a seated position. His hand traveled from his jaw to his neck, gingerly massaging the areas. He glanced back at the fallen sorcerer and then at the girl underneath him.

“Arthur,” Uther cried as he crossed the distance between them. He offered a hand to his son and helped him to his feet. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, father, I’m fine,” Arthur insisted. He had just barely begun to dust off his clothes when his sister threw her arms around him.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Morgana whispered into his chest. She released him and looked down at Emrys. “You protected my brother, just like you said.”

“She did more than that,” said Uther, who was looking at Emrys with a new light in his eyes. He knelt down on his knees until he was eye level with her. “You saved the lives of both of my children.”

“Well, I—” said Emrys.

“I have seriously misjudged you, Emrys. You have proved to be more competent than I first thought you were, and you shall be rewarded for what you’ve done,” he promised. “You will be honored with a permanent position in the Royal Household. You shall remain a handmaiden to Princess Morgana.”

Shock rendered Emrys speechless. Somewhere, she heard the knights applaud for her. She was brought out of shock by the pain in her leg as Morgana tried to help her to her feet. The folds of her dress were flung back to reveal Noren’s dagger protruding from her left thigh.

“Emrys,” Morgana cried. “You’re injured.”

Silas hurried over to Emrys and inspected her leg. “Luckily, it’s just a flesh wound. Emrys will recover quickly. I’ll need help getting her to my chambers, though.”

Arthur, noticing the way that Morgana was glaring at him, said, “Yes, of course.” He nodded to his father and motioned toward Reuben. “I’ll leave you to attend to these affairs, Father. I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night.” Arthur scooped Emrys up in his arms, ignoring the girl’s protests. “I will retire immediately after I’ve taken Morgana’s new handmaiden to Silas’ chambers.” He nodded toward the door for Reuben to open and followed Silas out of the great hall.

Emrys gave in to her desires. With every breath she took, she allowed her connection with the earth’s magic to grow deeper and deeper. It was too late for her to do anything else. She had already broken her promise to Baelfire.

 _But you had to break it,_ the little voice told her. _Arthur would’ve died._

She knew that he was trying to carry her in a position that put as little strain on her leg as possible, but if his hand came any closer to her breast, she would regret saving his life. She looked up at the dark sky as they left the castle gates, staring at the pair of silver eyes that watched her. She had no idea how long they had been there, but she doubted they had just shown up.

Emrys had the strangest sense that Baelfire had been watching her this whole time. The longer she looked at those narrowed silver eyes, the more she could picture a smirk on his beautiful face.

 _He knew you would fail_ , both voices told her.

“You’re rather quiet,” said Arthur as Emrys turned her head away from the sky. “I don’t think I’ve heard you _not_ speak since I met you.”

“I think you should count your blessings while you can, my lord,” she told him. “But if you’d like me to speak again, I suppose I could find a topic to humor you with.”

“Emrys,” Silas hissed, glaring at her. “Forgive her, sire. I fear she may be delusional from pain.” He waited for Reuben to open the door to their chambers before going inside. “If you would, please, Arthur, set Emrys down on that bench there.”

Arthur did as he was told. “Will there be anything else, Silas, or may I retire?”

“I think that’ll be all, sire, unless you’d like to help me remove the dagger from her leg.” Silas knelt in front of Emrys and started to lift the skirts of her dress.

“No,” said Emrys quickly, swatting Silas’ hands away. “You may retire, Arthur Pendragon. I should think that I’ll survive this without your help.”

“Let us hope, for Morgana’s sake, that you do.”

“If I don’t survive, it’ll certainly be beneficial to you, for I’ll only end up finding my way back to your training grounds to teach you another lesson.”

“Emrys, how many times must I scold you for the same mistake?” said Silas as he pulled her leg up to inspect it. “You can’t address him like that.”

“It’s quite alright, Silas,” said Arthur. He peered into Emrys’ face. “You’re not like other people, Emrys. It’s strange. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s different about you and I can’t explain it yet, but I will.” He nodded at Silas and turned toward the door. “Come along, Reuben.”

“Actually, sire,” said Reuben, “I was hoping that I might be allowed to stay a while longer before I retire myself.”

Arthur looked back at Reuben and then down at Emrys. “Oh,” he said slowly, a smile creeping onto his face. Understanding lit up his eyes.

“What?” said Emrys, looking between the two boys.

“I-It isn’t like that,” said Reuben quickly. He stepped away from his sister, avoiding eye contact with her. For a moment, Emrys thought that he would leave with Arthur after all.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Reuben. Had you been honest with me, I would’ve let _you_ carry her. See to it that you’re at my chambers by dawn. I’ll have some chores for you to do before we leave.”

“Arthur,” said Emrys suddenly. “I’ll admit that I speak my mind much more often than I probably should, and that I don’t always say the things I’m supposed to. But, in light of the events that have taken place tonight, I suppose I should say ‘thank you’ for saving my life.”

The room went silent as everyone turned to look at Arthur. As he was leaving, he smiled at her and said, “Well, you saved mine first.”

“He’s right, Emrys,” said Silas as he sat in front of her. “I saw what you did. You saved three lives tonight.”

“Using _magic_ ,” Reuben spat out, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’d hoped that you were smarter than this, Emrys. If anyone had seen what you had done—”

“No one saw it,” Emrys protested, turning her fierce eyes on her brother.

“—your head would’ve been on the next spear. Or, gods forbid, Uther would’ve had you burned at the stake. Is that what you want, Emrys?”

She laughed. Hearing the cruel sound come from her mouth scared her, but she was too angry to care. “It wouldn’t matter if it was. When have I _ever_ been able to do what _I_ wanted? For as long as I can remember, my life’s been controlled by someone—the gods, the Elders, our mother, you! I didn’t come here to follow a destiny I don’t want.”

“You shouldn’t have come here at _all_ , Emrys.

Emrys screamed suddenly as Silas drew the dagger from her thigh. She felt her magic rush back to her, but she paid no mind to it, directing her full attention to her brother. But before she could open her mouth, Silas said, “That is enough! Bickering will not change tonight’s events. We must focus on what we’re going to do.”

“Emrys will be going back home to Ealdor,” said Reuben authoritatively. “This whole thing could’ve been avoided if she hadn’t been here and we’re going to avoid any other further incidents by sending her back home.”

Emrys turned back at her brother with a glare. “I _have_ to stay here, Reuben. It’s too late for you to make me go back now,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I had one shot to change my fate, and I ended up stumbling right into it.”

“Emrys,” said Silas, placing his hand on top of hers.

She clutched her hand to her chest and looked down, trying not to give in to her emotions of hurt, fear, anger, and betrayal. “Don’t,” she told Silas. “Please. The last thing I want is your pity.”

Without knowing how they had gotten past her defenses, Emrys suddenly felt tears sliding down her cheeks. The sobs came in broken gasps, until she was shaking all over. She cried for the fear she had felt in the castle; she cried for the lives that had almost been lost; she cried for the life she had assisted in taking.

She felt Reuben’s strong arms wrap themselves around her shoulders and melted into his chest. Tranquility overtook her as he ran his fingers through her hair, removing it from its holder. Her sobs became soft sniffles.

“I thought I was strong enough to resist my powers, but he was right—they were too strong. ”

“‘He’,” said Silas.

“She found a dragon,” Reuben explained quickly.

Silas stumbled onto the stool in front of her. “Emrys,” he whispered. “You found the Great Dragon? And he wasn’t able to help?”

Emrys’ hands clenched into fists where the knife had been. She didn’t have to look to know that the wound was completely gone. Her magic had removed any trace of it. “He said he’d help me if I didn’t use my magic to alter anyone’s life.”

“But Emrys, surely you could plead to him once more. You saved the lives of Morgana and Arthur with magic.”

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t make a difference. It’s clear that he has no intention of helping me escape my destiny.” It was even clearer to Emrys that she did not know everything there was to know about her destiny with Arthur.

What did she have to do with the Once and Future King?


	4. The Royal Guard (Arthur)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur struggles to come to terms with how to handle the peculiar serving girl, Emrys.

“I can’t understand it, Reuben,” said Arthur, without turning away from his bedroom window. He kept his eyes fixed on the girl below, who had been so focused on getting to the castle that she’d almost allowed herself to be trampled by a horse and cart. She raised her hands in what Arthur assumed was an apology before racing through the castle gate.

Reuben set down Arthur’s breakfast and moved to the window beside his master. “Can’t understand what, sire?”

“That girl…”

“Emrys?”

Arthur nodded and turned around as Emrys disappeared into the castle. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Thinking, sire?”

“I’ve trained dozens of knights, defeated the tallest of enemies, conquered the largest of armies, and yet” —he stopped to swirl the contents in his goblet— “ _I_ was beaten in _combat_ by a _girl_.”

Arthur frowned as Reuben tried to hide a smile. “It’s not funny, Reuben. I’m sure the knights are laughing as well.”

“I’m sure they aren’t, sire.”

“Why wouldn’t they? I’m supposed to be leading them. Do you know what that means, Reuben? They should be inspired by me to fight for me, to defend Camelot.”

“Who says they aren’t inspired? We don’t even know if they’re laughing.”

Arthur took a large bite out of his sausage. “They’re laughing,” he said acidly. “ _You_ laughed. And if _you_ don’t fear me enough not to laugh, they won’t.”

“I apologize for laughing, sire. I didn’t mean any harm by it. I’m sure the knights aren’t laughing, though. They respect you too much to do that.”

Arthur shook his head, saying, “They must _fear_ me too much to do that. Respect is a familiarity that I can’t afford. If I want to rule this kingdom as my father does one day, I must be feared just as he’s feared. I can’t allow my position to be undermined by some girl.”

“It’s really not that serious, sire. I’m sure this entire situation will be seen as a testament to your good-heartedness.”

“Oh? Go on, then.” He finished the contents in his goblet.

“Nobody could expect you to grant her request. But you saw that she obviously had something to prove and humored her anyway. And as if that wasn’t already enough, you went easy on her so that she’d win. The law calls for the death of anyone who’d lay a harmful hand on a member of the royal family, but despite the fact that she threw a sword at you, you didn’t exact such a punishment.”

“You’re right,” cried Arthur suddenly, smiling. “It’s as you say, Reuben! I should’ve called for her head, or at least her arrest, but I didn’t do such a thing. How could I when she obviously felt as if she had something to prove to me?”

“Prove to you, sire?”

“It all makes sense now—why she challenged me, why she saved my life, why she makes such an effort to show her contempt for me. The poor girl obviously has feelings for me.”

Reuben almost dropped the goblet to the floor. “Feelings for you?”

“That poor girl,” said Arthur, smiling and shaking his head. “I understand why she’d feel this way. Who wouldn’t? I’ll have to let Emrys know, of course, that her fantasy can never come to be. As a serving girl, she could never hope that something might actually happen between us.” Arthur stood up and began to walk to his door.

Reuben hurried to block his master. “Forgive me, sire, but is there really a need to discuss this with her? I don’t think you’re considering the girl’s feelings.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at his manservant. “You seem to have quite an interest in this girl, Reuben.”

“I can assure you that I’m only concerned for your best interests. I don’t see how it’d benefit you to acknowledge her in any way.”

Arthur took a step back from the door, smiling suddenly. “I see your point, Reuben, but I must disagree with you.”

“Sire?”

“Everything is absolutely perfect.”

 

~

 

Arthur was beginning to think that everything was a little less than perfect, especially when the other knights began to shush themselves as he walked over to them. “What’s so funny?”

Gwaine smiled. “It wasn’t really that funny, sire.”

“Oh, nonsense, Gwaine.” He stuck his sword into the ground and looked around at the knights. “I’ll determine how funny it was.”

“Sire,” said Reuben warily.

Arthur ignored him with a wave of his hand. “Well, don’t leave me out of the joke. Come on, Gwaine, you know I love a good laugh.”

Some of the knights focused on their swords; others looked at the sky; no one answered Arthur. Arthur shrugged and pulled his sword out of the ground. “Well, then, if no one is going to tell me a joke, I’m going to assume this means you’re all ready to train. _Some_ of you,” he said, glancing at Gwaine, “need it more than others.”

“Yes,” Gwaine chuckled. “Some of us _definitely_ need it more than others.”

Arthur spun on his heels. “What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing, sire,” said Gwaine, still laughing. “Will our wench be joining us as well?”

“Our wench?”

Gwaine nodded, saying, “Emrys.”

Arthur’s back stiffened.

“Gwaine,” said Lancelot in a hushed tone.

“No, Lancelot, it’s good that we can talk about this so soon. I’m sure many of you are not sure what to think about yesterday’s events. Some of you have decided to treat this as a joke. I think you’re just trying to find a way to relieve tension after yesterday’s sorcery attack.

“Regardless, I think I need to explain the meaning behind what happened during yesterday’s training session. It seems that my simple intentions of behaving as a good sport have been perverted by the less than mature minds of the group. Let me lay any rumors to rest by saying that, no matter what it seemed like, I did _not_ lose to Emrys. I was afraid I would hurt her and saw no other way to get out of it than to play along and let her think she won.”

“I see,” said Gwaine. “And will you show the same tactics on the enemies we face in the future, or is Emrys the only one who will receive this kind of treatment?”

“Obviously, Emrys understood my kindness, as she did repay her debt yesterday.”

“Well, if _that_ is the case, I think I should see how she chooses to repay me if _I_ let her win.” Many of the knights hooted and hollered with laughter.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed and anger erupted in his chest. “I would advise you, _Sir_ Gwaine, to watch how you speak of Emrys. She is now Morgana’s handmaiden, and a respected member of the castle. I will not tolerate any form of harassment or disrespect toward her.”

“Wow,” said Emrys as she made her way to the knights’ circle. “That was quite a lovely speech on my behalf.”

Arthur spun around, ignoring the stifled laughter of the knights as he faced the small serving girl. “Emrys?”

“I thought you said she wouldn’t be joining us, Arthur,” said Gwaine with another laugh.

“You spoke of me earlier?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were so fond of me, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. It is my duty as a noble knight of Camelot to defend the honor of women when _less_ than noble knights tarnish it. However, Emrys,” he said, turning back to face her with a mischievous smile, “I had no idea you were so keen to die for me.”

“What makes you think I would risk my life for a prat like you?” She ignored the glare that Reuben was directing her way.

“Say what you like, Emrys, but the fact is you took a dagger for me.”

“That wasn’t risking my life,” she insisted. “I’d hoped that you would’ve learned how to dodge such attacks from yesterday’s little...training session. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected much from you. You do seem to be rather dense.”

“And you seem to be rather brash, don’t you, Emrys?”

“On the contrary, sire,” said Reuben suddenly, turning to glare at Emrys again. “Only when she’s bored. I’m sure you’ll find her to be an entirely different person otherwise.”

“Hmm,” Arthur mused. “If my memory serves me correctly, this is the third time you have spoken on Emrys’ behalf, Reuben.”

Reuben bent at the waist. “I promise not to make a habit of it.”

Arthur waved away his apology with his hand. “But what are you doing here, Emrys? This seems a rather long way from my sister’s chambers.”

Emrys held up a basket of cloth and said, “Guinevere would like me to launder some of Princess Morgana’s clothing, but she neglected to mention where I am to do that. I came here to find Reuben.”

“Yes,” said Reuben, stepping forward quickly. “Follow me and—”

“No need,” Arthur stammered, blocking the path of his manservant. “I’ll take you myself, Emrys. Reuben, you stay and see to it that our usual party is prepared to leave when I return. As for the rest of you,” he said, addressing the other knights, “you may continue to train.”

“Sire, are you sure? You never run errands.”

“This is hardly an errand, Reuben. Besides, I have need to see my sister anyway.” He grabbed Emrys’ basket and hurried away before anyone else could ask him any more questions.

When they had completely left the field, and he was sure that Emrys was following by herself, he shoved the load back into Emrys’ hands. He slowed his pace and let out a sigh.

“Did you want to be alone with me so badly?” Emrys asked as she shifted the basket in her arms.

“You assume the strangest things, Emrys. I needed an excuse to leave.”

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s a matter that only involves knights. Besides, you wouldn’t understand even if I explained it to you.”

Emrys was silent for a moment before she said, “It’d seem that I am not the only one who assumes strange things. You often seem to make the terrible mistake of judging someone’s ability based on their appearance. As a current knight and future king, I would advise you to be wary of that.”

“If I recall correctly, my father made you handmaiden, not consul. I don’t need your help, Emrys.”

The wind kicked up suddenly, sending a chill down his spine, and the door that they had entered through slammed shut. Emrys set her eyes on him with a look so fierce he found himself wanting to take a step back. “On the contrary, Arthur Pendragon. _You_ need my help more than you know; it is _I_ who doesn’t need you.” She turned around and found the nearest staircase to climb.

Arthur hurried after her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what you think it does.”

He could see that he wasn’t going to get a straight answer from her on the matter. “Where do you even think you’re going? Back to Morgana’s chambers?” Still she did not answer him. “You’re going the wrong way, then. The Solar section of the castle is in the opposite direction.”

“How do you know I’m not just trying to find it on my own?”

“That’s exactly what I fear you’re doing. You’ll get lost that way.” She was quite fast for such a small girl! In a quick burst of energy, Arthur caught up to Emrys and kept in step with her, despite her attempts to lose him. “I don’t know if this thought had ever occurred to you, but I grew up in this castle.”

“Your point being?”

“I can show you the quickest way to get to the laundry room and back to Morgana if you’ll only let me.”

“I already told you I’m not in need of your assistance, especially if you’re only going to be rude to me. I understand you’re upset, but there’s no need for you to act so childish and take it out on me.”

There it was again. He’d felt it before, that power that this simple serving girl exuded, when she’d held the sword over his head. It was not the same type of feeling he had when he was in the presence of his father. That was a brutal force, a violent declaration, an involuntary submission. If he had fought Uther yesterday, Arthur would’ve continued to struggle until his life had been taken. He wouldn’t have allowed that kind of power to decide his fate.

Emrys’ power wasn’t that of the nobility, which Arthur felt always desired to prove itself and justify its reign. He thought that, even if he or other nobles were to try, they would never obtain this kind of force. Her power was absolute. It demanded to be felt simply because it was present, and somewhere along the mix, Arthur felt obligated to give her power his respect as well.

Arthur stopped walking. He simply didn’t understand it—this gentle wind, this compliant surrender, this silent strength. It seemed to be a part of her, something she carried wherever she went. He felt that, at any moment, Emrys could become terribly frightening with power. Arthur didn’t know if Emrys was aware of this power, but he was determined to discover what it was and how to use it.

Arthur knew that this was the power that would either make him king or drive him to madness.

He realized then that she was staring at him with her large, honey-golden eyes, waiting for some kind of answer. He wanted to apologize, but instead he crossed his arms and said, “You’re right. Let’s both agree to be more civil towards each other.

Her jaw tightened ever so slightly before she opened her mouth to say, “If you think you can manage, then please show me the way, _sire_.”

 

~

 

“Arthur,” Morgana exclaimed as her brother entered her chambers behind her handmaiden. “Whatever are you doing here? I hope you haven’t been bothering Emrys.”

It was obvious that whatever power Emrys possessed had already worked its way over Morgana. His sister was naturally caring, but she had never been so fiercely protective over a servant before. “Relax, dearest sister. You’ll be happy to know that I’ve promised to be civil toward your handmaiden while she’s employed here.”

Emrys shoved the basket into Guinevere’s arms, a subtle glare hidden under her lashes. She bowed at the waist and said, “Forgive my tardiness, princess. I realized only after I left that I was unaware of where I should go next. Luckily, the prince was willing to offer his help with my chores.”

Arthur couldn’t help looking at Emrys in shock. The fiery girl he’d just run around the castle with had been tamed and hidden away in the presence of Morgana. The serving girl standing in front of him was definitely a different version of Emrys he hadn’t yet seen. He couldn’t determine if this was the effect of Morgana being her direct superior, or if this was Emrys’ way of exuding her power over Morgana.

Morgana raised an eyebrow and turned toward Arthur. “Really? You truly are amazing, Emrys. However did you manage that?”

Guinevere frowned, saying, “Is Arthur incapable of doing a good deed of his own accord?”

“If he’d ever done such a thing before, I’d be willing to believe that. Whatever the cause, though, I should thank you, Arthur, for your service to Emrys.”

“In the future, though, Emrys,” said Guinevere as she set the basket down, “you’re to seek out help from _Reuben_ and not distract Arthur from his duties.”

There was a flash of discord that rippled through Emrys’ face before it disappeared. Again, Arthur saw her power settle over her. “I went to the grounds looking for Reuben. It was the prince who decided that Reuben had other matters to attend to.”

“Like what, Arthur,” said Guinevere, turning to the prince with her hands on her hips.

Arthur suddenly felt that between these two girls was not a place that he wanted to be. He cleared his throat and said, “Reuben is helping my men prepare for a hunt.”

Morgana groaned. “Seriously, Arthur? You were just attacked _yesterday_ , and you’re going back outside the castle already?”

“I was attacked _inside_ the castle,” he reminded her. “And I can’t be stopped from going on a hunt.”

“Arthur, I implore you to reconsider. It’s dangerous in those woods and I’m not sure the knights will be able to protect you. They act more as your friends than your guards.” She paused for a moment and then added, “And after yesterday’s events, I’m beginning to question the competence of your knights.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why weren’t they able to see through Noren’s disguise?”

“It was a disguise, Morgana. _No one_ saw through that.”

“Emrys did. Gwaine said that out of all the knights, Lancelot is the only one who has truly come close to beating you in a fight.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Emrys,” said Morgana, addressing her as she turned around. “How much training have you had with melee weapons?”

Emrys’ eyes darted around the room. “My mother is our village blacksmith. At thirteen, she thought I was old enough to learn how to use some of the weapons she forged.” Noticing the look Arthur was giving her, she quickly added, “But I’m really only good with a sword, and I don’t think my training could compare to what the knights learn.”

“On the contrary, Emrys. From what I saw yesterday, I’d argue that your knife throwing is just as skilled as some of our knights.”

“I’m sorry, Morgana,” said Arthur, “but I fail to see the point you’re trying to make. What does your handmaiden being skilled in sword have to do with my hunt?”

Turning back to Arthur, Morgana said, “I think I have the perfect solution. Emrys has proved to me that she is more than capable of protecting you. If you wish to go on a hunt, you will take Emrys. From now on, Emrys will also be part of the Royal Guard.”

“Morgana,” Guinevere gasped.

Arthur sputtered, “You can’t just do that, Morgana! Father would never allow a servant, much less a girl to be a part of the Royal Guard.”

Morgana stood up and crossed her arms. “I think you underestimate the influence I have on our Father. I see no reason why Emrys shouldn’t be allowed to protect you.”

“She’s not a knight.”

“The Royal Guard isn’t made of knights anyway.”

“She’s still a _girl_.”

“I think it’s time Camelot caught up with the times. Women have proved themselves capable of occupying any job—blacksmith, bower, artisan. It’s about time we show that Camelot is a modern civilization. What better way to do that than to break tradition and install Emrys as a member of the Royal Guard?”

“No,” Arthur growled. “I won’t allow it.”

Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “You _will_ , or _I_ will see to it that Father bans your hunting trips entirely. I was never fond of them anyway.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?”

Arthur was silent for the longest time. He shared a look with Emrys, who looked just as shocked and against the idea as he was. He couldn’t imagine having to share a hunting trip with _her_. It would change the dynamic of the entire outing. These hunts were supposed to be his time of relief from his palace duties. Bringing a _girl_ around would only slow the party down and detract from their success.

But he knew that if he refused, Morgana would hold true to her word and force their father to end his outings altogether. It was the cruelest of fates either way.

“Fine,” Arthur spat out bitterly. “I will take Emrys. But if she proves to be incapable of ‘protecting’ me, I’m sending her straight back to you and I don’t ever want to discuss this nonsense again. Do we have a deal, Morgana?”

Emrys stepped forward and locked eyes with Arthur. “We have a deal.”

“Good. We leave now.”


	5. His Sister's Smile (Reuben)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reuben, desperate to protect his sister, finds that his choices might actually further estrange him.

Reuben’s heart sped up at the sight of his sister as she followed Arthur into the stables. “Sire, why is Emrys here?”

“She’s coming with us,” Arthur replied bitterly.

Emrys avoided Reuben’s glare and shifted uncomfortably. “The princess has temporarily assigned me to the Royal Guard and instructed me to join Arthur’s hunting party to ensure his safety.”

Of _course_ that would be the case. He blamed the gods for such misfortune. If Emrys had only left for Ealdor when he’d told her to…

“Reuben, what’re you doing,” Arthur snapped. “Find her a horse so we can depart.”

“Oh, sire, Emrys is afraid of horses,” said Reuben automatically, not thinking about what he had said before it was too late.

“How do you know _that_ , Reuben?”

He cursed the gods again, this time for his own stupidity. “I,” he stuttered, searching for an excuse. “I noticed how she began to act when she entered the stables.”

“Nonsense. She can’t really be afraid of horses.”

“So what if I am,” Emrys snapped suddenly, her back against the wall furthest from the any of the horses. One snorted and she jumped. Her labored breaths and wide eyes made Reuben think of a frightened rabbit.

For a moment, a smile teased Arthur’s lips. “Do you not like horses, Emrys?”

“What’s there to like about these beasts? They’re terribly frightening creatures, if you think about it. And it’s a common fear. Lots of people don’t like horses.”

Reuben didn’t see how she could fear horses but willingly seek out _dragons_. Still, he saw this as the perfect opportunity to get his sister away from Arthur. “Well, I don’t see how you’ll be able to come if you can’t ride a horse.”

In the moment that it took Emrys to frown at him, Reuben realized that she would not be going back. “Don’t you have something _smaller_ that I can ride?”

 

~

 

Arthur glanced behind him and leaned over to whisper to Reuben, “I don’t particularly enjoy her being here, but the sight of her on that stunted pony almost makes it bearable.”

He did find it hard _not_ laugh at Emrys, who clutched the reins to her chest and constantly eyed the pony as if it would buck at any moment. However, Reuben didn’t voice this to Arthur—he still wished his sister wasn’t on the trip.

“I can’t hold back any longer,” said Arthur, chuckling to himself before he turned around to look at Emrys, who was beginning to trail behind the group. “You seem to be lagging behind, Emrys. Are you _sure_ you wouldn’t prefer to ride one of my stallions?”

She glared at Arthur in response. Reuben didn’t know how Emrys could be so audacious as to challenge the prince so often, nor how Arthur could be so inexplicably drawn to this serving girl. Perhaps the Elders had been right when they’d spoken of the ancient connection between the two.

“I’m quite fine, thanks,” she grumbled back. “How much further out?”

“Is my horse too close to you, Emrys?” Gwaine hooted. “Would you like me to speed up?”

“No need to, Gwaine,” said Arthur. “We’ll be traveling on foot from here.” He waited for Reuben to steady the horse before he dismounted.

Lancelot unhorsed himself and made his way over to Emrys. Reuben sighed with relief and thanked the gods that Lancelot had taken it upon himself to help Emrys off of her pony. Out of the four knights there—Lancelot, Percival, Gwaine, and Tristan—knowing that someone like Gwaine hadn’t done it made him feel a little better for his sister.

Emrys smoothed the creases in her dress. “Thank you, Sir…”

“Chivalrous,” he replied with a smile.

Reuben was glad that Emrys at least had the sense to be embarrassed. She ducked her head and said, “Right. I apologize for that. I was out of line.”

Beside him, Reuben heard Arthur scoff as he watched the interaction between the two and mumbled something about missing _his_ apology. Emrys glanced over at them as if she had heard Arthur.

Lancelot laughed. “Not entirely. I’ll admit that I do brush up on the Code from time to time.” He brought her fingers to his lips and held her gaze. “Sir Lancelot at your service, milady.”

Reuben was surprised at Emrys when she began to giggle, and even more so when she said, “Perhaps I should call you Sir Charming, instead.”

Reuben opened his mouth to say something, but Arthur beat him to it: “Emrys! If I recall correctly, you weren’t brought along to flirt with my knights. Remember that you promised not to become a burden.” He turned and led the troop into the woods.

Emrys hitched up the skirts of her dress and closed the distance between her and Arthur, squeezing past Reuben. “How exactly am I being a burden to a hunting party that isn’t hunting?”

Arthur let out an exasperated breath as he looked around the forest. Reuben knew that he was looking out for any bandits and thieves in the area. Wanderer’s Pass, though typically uneventful, was known as a home for outlaws.

“We’re about to,” said Reuben. He gave her a pointed look and raised his eyebrows, which, thankfully, was enough this time to keep her silent.

They walked further away from the horses, with Arthur in the lead, carrying a bow and a quiver of arrows. He would stop every now and then to hold up his fist and listen to the sounds around them; then he would change directions and continue.

A couple of times, Emrys would try to get closer to him to talk. Whenever she did, Reuben made a point of ignoring her; but when she was approached by one of the knights, Reuben would call her close to him again. To his chagrin, the knights seemed to be legitimately interested in her. He became increasingly worried as they asked about her life before Camelot, as he was certain that someone would finally be smart enough to connect the two of them. He did his best to interrupt Emrys whenever she came close to revealing any shared information.

Finally, they came to a stop, and Reuben was sent with Emrys to stand lookout. He checked behind him to make sure Arthur was not watching them. “Why do you keep doing that,” Emrys asked when he turned back to her.

“I’m sorry. How’s your leg? Is it completely healed?”

“Reuben,” she said, her eyes pleading with his. “What are you trying to do?”

“Emrys, you can’t tell people that we’re family.”

She blinked. “What?”

“We can’t let on about our relation.”

“Why not? Are you embarrassed of me, Reuben? Is that why you’ve been acting like this?” The wind picked up in the forest, and Reuben could hear the exasperated groans of the party as whatever game they were chasing sprinted away.

“Emrys, it isn’t like that,” he promised. He looked back and saw Arthur motioning him back.

“Certainly sounds like it. I think you’re still mad about me being here, and this is your way of trying to punish me.”

Reuben groaned. There would be no winning with her. It had always been like this; but now he didn’t have the time or patience to deal with this. “I’ll explain later. Arthur wants us back.”

Emrys clenched her jaw and stormed ahead of him. To the party, it probably just seemed like she was just mad—which she was—but Reuben could see the subtle change in their surroundings as the vicious winds trailed after Emrys.

“You’d think we were on the sea with these winds,” Arthur yelled as the party traveled deeper into the forest. He turned back and looked at Emrys, who was struggling to keep her skirts from flying up in the wind. “And it would seem that my _protector_ is having trouble.”

To Reuben’s surprise, the winds died down, even though Emrys had turned to glare at Arthur. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, _sire_ , but I’m not exactly in appropriate attire for this type of outing. Forgive me if I have some difficulties in this weather.”

Arthur smiled. “And what exactly is your idea of ‘appropriate attire’, Emrys?”

“I’d like to get out of these skirts and into trousers, if possible.”

Gwaine chuckled. “It would seem you and I have similar goals, Emrys. I also desire to get you out of those skirts.”

“Am I to assume that you’re not around ladies often, _Sir_ Gwaine? You certainly don’t seem to know how to behave in one’s presence.”

Reuben couldn’t hold back any longer! This was his sister, not some barmaid. “Might I remind you, Gwaine, what the prince warned you earlier?”

“Reuben,” said Arthur as he turned around. “How dare you…”

Reuben stopped listening as Arthur’s voice began to rise. That was another weird thing: Arthur had remained silent the entire time that Emrys had mouthed off to him and his knights, but when Reuben said something he was immediately scolded for it. He glanced at Emrys, wondering about the details of their magical connection.

He suddenly noticed the wind that Emrys had kicked up had died down completely, the noise it had made replaced by the sound of breaking twigs. Arthur must’ve realized it too, because he immediately stopped talking and drew his sword, just in time for an arrow to knock it from his hands.

“Ambush,” Arthur yelled as he scrambled on the forest floor for his sword. At the sound of his cry, the knights drew their swords to face the onslaught of bandits coming from the surrounding trees.

Reuben rushed toward his sister and drew her toward the middle of the fight, behind the protective circle of the knights. He ignored Emrys’ protests, barely managing to keep her out harm’s way.

“I need to help, Reuben,” she cried. “That’s my job. Arthur’s in trouble!”

He spun around and grabbed her by the shoulders. “You don’t have a sword, Emrys! How are you possibly going to be of any help?”

“I’ll get a sword, then,” she insisted, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was nearby. She slipped out of Reuben’s grasp and made her way toward the closest bandit, who was busying himself with Gwaine.

Reuben started to go after his sister, but stopped to avoid an arrow as it flew past him. He wished, as a servant, that he could carry his own sword to fight, but he knew that Arthur would never allow it. Still, it would’ve been better if he could’ve helped Emrys.

“Reuben,” cried Arthur as he ducked underneath the sword of his attacker. “What are you—hah! —doing? Get her out of here!” The prince was shoved to the ground, drawing his attention back to his fight.

He turned to obey his master, but never got the chance to complete the task. The last thing Reuben remembered seeing was the hilt of a sword before it came crashing down on his head.

 

~

 

Reuben awoke to the sound of rambunctious laughter. For a moment, he believed that he was in the tavern with the knights. When he opened his eyes he realized he was nowhere near the tavern. He sat up quickly and looked around.

“Yes, welcome back, Reuben,” said a sullen Arthur, who was slumped against the far wall with his arms crossed. “I was wondering when you might come to again.”

“What happened, sire?”

“From what I can gather, we’re at Stonewall Keep.”

Reuben’s heart sank. Stonewall Keep was known to be the hideout of Camelot's worst thieves and bandits. If they were here, then the chances of escaping without harm were minimal—especially if they knew that Prince Arthur Pendragon was among them. “How long have we been here?”

“Relax, Reuben. It’s only been a few hours. I’m sure the sun’s just now beginning to set.”

A second look at his surroundings made Reuben realize their party was missing quite a few members. “Where’re the others?”

“They’re in another cell.”

“Is Emrys with them?”

“I doubt it. Last thing I saw, she and Gwaine got away safely.”

Reuben winced and muttered, “Great. And if he continues to flirt with her the way he was earlier, I’ll be surprised if we ever get rescued.”

The prince sat quietly and stared at his manservant. “You seem really concerned for this girl, Reuben.”

Could he risk admitting that he did? Would it make Arthur suspicious of his relation to Emrys? “I just...know how Gwaine can be.”

“You should have some more faith in me, Reuben,” said a voice behind him. Reuben knew before he’d even turned around that it belonged to Gwaine. The smiling fool held up a ring of keys and whistled before jiggling them into the lock.

Arthur leapt to his feet as Gwaine swung the cell door open. “Gwaine! I didn’t expect you to stage a rescue so soon!” He clasped the knight in a quick hug and took the sword when Gwaine offered it.

“Well, I was going to get Emrys back to Camelot first and get the other knights,” Gwaine admitted, “but Emrys insisted on finding you. Said that if we didn’t go after you now, we could lose our chance of ensuring your safety.”

“Where is she now?” Reuben asked.

Gwaine rubbed the back of his neck and gave a bashful smile. “I did try to stop her, but she had her mind set on splitting up. Said I would be better off defeating the guards to get to you all.”

“What does that mean? Where is she?” Reuben repeated.

“She said something about getting a sword. I thought she’d meet back with us by now.”

Reuben felt his heart quicken in pace. That stupid girl! Magic or not, she didn’t know how dangerous it was here. And it wasn’t as if she could just bring the hideout crumbling to the ground if she needed a quick escape—everyone was still inside.

Before Reuben could do anything, Arthur gripped his sword tightly in his hand and said, “Gwaine, Reuben, you free the others; I’ll find Emrys.”

“With all due respect, sire,” said Reuben, “I think I should come with you.”

“You’ll only be a hindrance, Reuben.”

“I might surprise you.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment further on the matter. With a groan, he motioned for Reuben to follow him and raced down the hallway of fallen thieves. Every so often, Arthur would stop and listen for any oncoming bandits before they continued. Reuben didn’t know how Arthur knew where he was going, but he thanked the gods if it had anything to do with his connection to Emrys.

“I’ll bet anything Emrys is behind those doors,” Arthur whispered as he stared at the two large doors at the end of the corridor.

From the sounds of male distress calls, Reuben didn’t doubt that Emrys was. He looked back at Arthur to hear his plan: “I’ll distract as many as I can. As soon as you can grab Emrys, do so, and let’s meet up with the others so we can get out of here. And Reuben, try your best to stay away from swords. We both know how uncoordinated you can be. You’ll be of no use to anyone if you’re injured.”

Without another word, Arthur drew his sword and wait for Reuben to draw back the doors. Across the floor lay five fallen thieves, some obviously dead, and others only injured; Reuben didn’t know if Emrys had accomplished this type of takedown with or without magic, but he was impressed. When he’d last seen his sister, she hadn’t been skilled enough in either sword or magic to do such a thing.

Emrys was occupied with a rather large thief when Arthur entered the room. She had, in fact, found a sword to fight with and, to Reuben’s relief, she seemed to be fighting much better than when she had used Percival’s sword. She faltered momentarily underneath the large thief and had to sidestep in order to regain her balance. She recovered quickly and brought her sword up with her, tearing a line across the thief’s thin tunic.

She tried to turn her attention to face another oncoming, but instead, she was grabbed by her long dress and pulled back to him. Emrys uttered a cry of pain and kicked her feet, struggling to breathe; the other thief ran at her with his sword drawn.

“Emrys,” Arthur yelled as he rushed to her defense. His sword clashed with the smaller thief, but Arthur didn’t let this deter him. Before his opponent could make a move, Arthur let his fist fly into his nose. The thief crumpled to the floor unconscious. “Do you want some—”

Reuben knew that Arthur didn’t see it as he was turning around, but he saw his sister’s eyes turn pure white. The thief dropped her, withdrawing his burning hand. She landed a kick in his shin and smashed the hilt of her sword on the top of his head. His eyes rolled to the back of his head before he slumped down.

“—help,” said Arthur meekly.

Emrys tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear and huffed. “If you want to help me, I suggest listening when I say that I can’t fight in these skirts! That’s the second hole in just as many days that I’ll have to fix now.”

Arthur scoffed. “You know you are entirely ungrateful! I just saved your life!”

“Saved my life? I seem to recall I was doing just fine on my own. You only came for the last bit, anyway.”

Reuben couldn’t help but smile as they continued to argue. Even in the middle of danger, his sister was still, well, his sister. Seeing that there were no others in the room, Reuben stepped forward.

The smile of relief that lit up Emrys’ face reminded Reuben of how much he had missed her these past ten years. She cried his name, dropped her sword, and ran to throw her arms around him. “Thank the gods you’re okay,” she whispered into his chest. She pulled back and touched the top of his forehead. “Is everything alright? Does your head hurt?”

Arthur scoffed again and said, “Of course. _I_ risk my life to save yours, but it’s the _servant_ you’re worried about.”

Any concern Emrys had felt for Reuben seemed to evaporate into anger as she turned around to face the prince again. She and the prince became so engaged in another argument that neither of them noticed the large thief beginning to stir.

On instinct, Reuben grabbed a sword from the dead man lying at his feet and lifted it to meet the large thief as he leapt for Emrys. The sword pierced through the thief’s shoulder, and Reuben, feeling empowered, drove the sword further through. The thief fell to the floor, gasping for breath.

Arthur turned raised eyebrows to Reuben before walking over to stand above the thief. “Gardin,” he said, in recognition. He glanced at Emrys and elaborated further: “One of the worst thieves Camelot has ever known.”

“ _The_ worst thief Camelot has ever known,” said Gardin through bared teeth. “If you think you’ve won today, Pendragon, you’re wrong.”

“That may be,” said Arthur in a low voice, “but it would seem that _your_ reign’s come to an end.”

 

~

 

Gwaine laughed rambunctiously as they passed through the gates of Camelot. “I just wish I’d been there to see it myself— _Reuben_ holding a sword!”

“He was spectacular,” Emrys said proudly, her head held high as her pony trotted alongside Reuben’s horse. “You all would’ve been very impressed.”

Arthur looked back at his manservant, taking his attention away from their unconscious prisoner momentarily. “I have to say, Reuben, that you did manage to surprise me back there.”

“I told you I would, sire,” said Reuben with a smile.

“Wherever did you learn how to maneuver so easily with a sword?”

Reuben shared a look with his sister, remembering when their mother had trained them together in the art of swordsmanship. Still smiling, he said, “I suppose I just picked it up after all these years as your servant.”

Arthur shrugged and said, “I suppose so. But who knew?”

“I’ll tell you who knew something,” said Gwaine, looking at Emrys. “I wasn’t sure we were heading in the right direction after you lot were captured, but Emrys swore to me she knew where she was going. I thought she was just saying that so that I wouldn’t send her back.”

“Yes,” Arthur mused. “I’m grateful that you decided to stay, Emrys, but why were you so against returning to Camelot?”

“I couldn’t imagine returning and trying to explain to Morgana how I lost her precious, little brother,” said Emrys with a glance up at the prince.

“I think you just didn’t want to ride a horse back by yourself,” Arthur replied, smiling greatly when his knights laughed. He dismounted as he came to the steps of the castle and doubled back to help Emrys from her pony; he quickly pulled his hands back down to his side when Emrys turned away from him to accept Reuben’s help instead.

Reuben locked eyes with the prince, wondering if he should have let him help Emrys down. Turning away slowly and dismissing the idea, Reuben touched Emrys lightly on her arm and said, “Do you have any further duties tonight?”

“I should probably report back to the princess. We’ve returned so late, and she’s probably worried that something’s happened.”

“I’ll escort you there.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “And what am I supposed to do without my manservant? I’m sure Emrys can find her way to Morgana’s chambers on her own, Reuben.”

Reuben expected Emrys to argue; it was obvious she knew the strange effect her connection had on Arthur. If he was honest with himself, Reuben also desired to be alone with his sister. He had things to explain to her and, after the near-death scare at Stonewall, didn’t want their new, budding relationship to be hindered by misunderstandings.

He almost didn’t believe it when Emrys turned and cordially agreed with the prince: “Yes, I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way. But aren’t _you_ coming with me to see the lady Morgana? I would think you’d have many things to discuss with her about today.”

Even in the pale moonlight, Reuben could see a bit of color leave Arthur’s face. He wouldn’t have thought both he and the prince shared the same desire _not_ to be the immediate deliverer of bad news. “No,” said Arthur as he regained his composure. “Perhaps I’ll address her in private some other time. I don’t particularly see a need to discuss anything with her tonight. Besides, I should make sure my father’s aware of our new guest.”

The gentle light of the moon cast deep shadows across Emrys’ face. She hitched up her torn skirts and said, “I’ve never seen so many brothers afraid to address their sisters. Camelot’s men sure are strange.” She tossed a wave over her shoulder and dismissed herself.

Arthur turned back to Reuben and said, “What was that all about?”

Reuben swallowed a lump in his throat. “I’ve no idea, sire.”

“Really? I’m quite surprised you don’t know, Reuben, seeing as you’ve managed to read her mind thus far.”

“If I had to say it was anything,” said Lancelot as he stepped forward, “I’d say we’ve just witnessed the frustration of unrequited love.”

“Yes, Reuben and I have already determined that it’s why Emrys feels the need to challenge me,” said Arthur, flippantly waving his hand. “But no matter how deep her feelings for me are, she must come to terms that it can never happen.”

Failing to suppress a smile, Lancelot said, “With all due respect, sire, I don’t think it’s you, Emrys is in love with.”

“Oh? Enlighten me, then.”

Lancelot nodded toward Reuben. “I believe she has eyes for your serving boy.”

The urge to laugh outrageously tore through Reuben with such intensity, he thought he might burst of laughter. “Me?”

“I haven’t seen many girls who, among the presence of knights and a prince, can retain such composure. She spent the entire trip as close to you as she could get.”

Arthur let out a ferocious laugh and clapped his manservant on the shoulder. “Of course! I was a fool for not seeing this before! She only challenged me after I fought you. I wonder how long she’s fancied you.”

“Surely, that isn’t the case, sire,” said Reuben. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Were he and Emrys supposed to endear this jest until it either ended or she left for Ealdor?

“Nonsense, Reuben. What else could it be, then?”

“We’re—” Reuben cut his sentence short and kept his mouth shut, as he was used to doing. He’d almost said it: that he and Emrys were family. It had slipped out so naturally, he wondered why he’d ever even felt the need to hide it. It was simply too big and too tedious of a secret to even attempt hiding. It would’ve been better if he could’ve come out in the open.

He suddenly glanced up in the direction of Morgana’s chambers. He couldn’t see inside, but he imagined his sister watching over the scene from above. It dawned on him that being told to hide their relation wasn’t what she must’ve been expecting after nearly a decade of separation.

And, Reuben realized, it wasn’t what he wanted either. After so many years of distancing himself, being away from his sister, he didn’t think he would be able to go on with this charade for much longer.

He would own their relation tomorrow, he decided. They would finally be able to reconcile their differences and resolve the issues of their past. Smiling, Reuben happily went about his final chores, knowing that tomorrow, for the first time in ten years, he would make his sister smile again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked seeing things from Reuben's POV! I thought he might add a refreshing change to things. We're back to Emrys in the next chapter and we'll get the chance to see her interact with another magic user! Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think!


	6. The Baker's Apprentice (Emrys)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emrys catches the eye of another person with magic.

“Emrys,” a voice whispered, forcing her eyes to open.

There was more blinding sunlight and the familiar grass and lake. When she saw the Great Tree, Emrys realized where she was and spun around, her spider silk dress billowing behind her. She knew who she would be facing even before his beautiful body took form.

Anger boiled in her veins, throwing her forward. She raised a fiery hand, but before she could bring it back down, Baelfire reached out and caught her arm. He grabbed hold of her other one when she tried to strike him again.

Despite her struggling, he was able to pull her close to him with ease. He leaned into her face and locked eyes with her. This time Emrys saw that in his silver were flecks of white, the same color her eyes turned when she connected with her magic.

He kept his voice low and calm. “You will not attempt to hit me, Emrys.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” She wrenched her arms out of his grip and took a step away from him. “You lied to me.” Two days hadn’t been enough time for Emrys to forget the bitter truth of Baelfire’s betrayal during the King’s celebrations.

“I did,” he admitted, “and I regret it, but lying was necessary. You wouldn’t have understood had I told you the truth.”

Emrys scoffed loudly. “The truth. What is the ‘truth’, then?”

“No mortal, no matter how great, can escape the destiny that has been set for them. I told you before that you are tied to many things. Too much is left hanging in the balance if you don’t acknowledge your role.”

“No,” said Emrys, shaking her head. “You must have the wrong person.”

“I did not wait a millennium for the wrong person, Emrys. It’s you who must accept this burden and you alone. There is no escaping it.”

“I don’t believe that. I’ll find a way to change my destiny.”

Baelfire looked up at the Great Tree of Avalon. “I wish you the best of luck, Emrys, but what hope is there to find an answer that even I don’t have?”

“I won’t be the only one looking for an answer,” she promised.

He turned his silver eyes to face her, laughing. “You think the help of your brother and uncle is enough?”

Emrys shook her head. “You’ll also be helping me.”

“I will not,” he said, his face contorting into a frown. “If you think that I’ll offer my help because I feel guilty about lying to you, then—”

“It’s not that. You’ll help me because you need my cooperation.”

Baelfire didn’t falter. “Your cooperation? What makes you think that _I_ am in need of such a thing?”

Emrys shrugged casually and turned away from him, eyeing her surroundings. “You said yourself that you needed my help. I don’t think you bring me to this realm simply to communicate through my dreams.”

“I don’t have to explain my methods to a mortal.”

She frowned and spun back around, her head held high. “You don’t have to. Some things are just obvious. You think I didn’t realize you’re trapped in this realm? That you need my magic to return you to your glory? What will you do if I refuse?”

Baelfire turned on her, then, his silver eyes turning dark. “You will not deny me my freedom, Emrys!”

Emrys locked eyes with him and stood her ground. “Then you _will_ be devoted to helping me, or I’ll allow you to remain in isolation.”

For what seemed like eternity, Baelfire was silent. Finally, he spoke: “Fine. You have a deal, Emrys.”

“I don’t want to make a deal. I want your word. No more lies between us.” She extended her arm.

He grabbed her elbow in response, sealing their agreement with their magic. “You have my _word_ , Emrys.” His eyes snapped back to hers. “Do not think, however, that this is an alliance. I’m only interested in my own survival.”

“And that is what we have in common. It’s not an alliance; it’s a pact for mutual survival.”

Baelfire grimaced and released her arm. “You were right in saying that I need your magic, Emrys. However, there is still much room for you to grow. There is great power within you, but it will ultimately be your downfall if you can’t control it.”

He opened his hands and summoned an old, large book. “You’ll need the knowledge of this grimoire.”

Emrys took the book in her hands and flipped it open to familiar text. “This is the language of the Druids?” She glanced up to see Baelfire nod and returned her eyes to the book.

The first page spoke of the Prophecy. She felt the urge to run away, but she forced herself to stay there. She at least wanted to read it for herself. Her body began to tremble as she read:

 

_A year shall come when stars go dark;_

_When lights and shadows blend_ —

_Then all the worlds will be aligned;_

_And spell for all an end_.

 

_With magic, the threat of darkness be vanquished._

_With selfless blood, the price be paid._

 

At the bottom of the familiar text was a note written in different handwriting:

 

 _Only through the bond of the Mage and the Once and Future King can hope remain_.

 

Baelfire studied her face as she read it. “There is something on your mind,” he noted.

“Yes,” said Emrys, closing the book. “The Once and Future King...is that meant to be Arthur?”

“That’s the title by which the Druids refer to him.”

“What does it mean?”

“The bond which you and the young prince share is stronger than you may think.”

“What are you talking about, our bond? What bond?” Emrys thought back to the pain that had erupted in her stomach whenever she’d been away from Arthur. She involuntarily clutched at it.

“Yes, that,” said Baelfire, as if he could tell what she was thinking. Emrys wouldn’t have been surprised if he could. “Your magic, though powerful, remains incomplete without Arthur. There will be physical consequences should you continue to neglect your connection to Arthur.”

“Great,” Emrys mumbled. “Of all the people in Camelot I could be forced together with, the gods chose that prat of a prince, Arthur.”

“You should keep an open mind, Emrys. You and Arthur have known each other since the dawn of magic itself. Your bond has surpassed many of your lifetimes.”

“Lifetimes?”

Baelfire smiled at her.

“You promised me the truth.”

“Yes, but another time, perhaps, Emrys. It would seem that you are waking up.” As her vision began to blur, Baelfire said, “We really must stop leaving things like this.”

 

~

 

Emrys woke from her vision to the gentle sound of a few birds that had gotten up early to chirp before the rest. With a lazy smile, Emrys rolled over and dropped her arm off the side of her mattress, determined to catch a few more precious moments of sleep. She snapped up when she realized that her hand was not touching the floor.

Underneath her hand was the grimoire that Baelfire had given her. She couldn’t imagine how the book had traveled back with her from Baelfire’s realm, but she didn’t question it too much. She opened the book to the Prophecy and read the first few lines again.

“Emrys,” Silas called from somewhere behind her door. “Are you awake yet?”

Emrys threw her covers off and walked out. Instead of answering, she sat at the table and groaned loudly. For added effect, she slammed her head onto the table and covered her face.

Silas didn’t pay any extra attention to her. He took one look at her, turned back around to make breakfast and said, “I’m afraid you’ll just have to get used to waking up earlier now. As handmaiden to Princess Morgana, you’re required to be there at dawn.”

“Dawn,” Emrys repeated, quickly bringing herself to a sitting position. She glanced out the window again, calculated the amount of time she had left to prepare herself, and raced back into her room.

With a sinking heart, Emrys remembered that her wardrobe was not nearly as extensive or expensive as Morgana’s. It didn’t help that two of her dresses had yet to be mended from their tears. She wanted to impress, and she knew that appearance made a significant difference.

“I have nothing to wear,” she wailed from her room as she slipped out of her shift.

“What are you talking about, Emrys,” said Silas, obviously not bothered by her tone. “We just bought you a new dress last week.”

She vaguely remembered that trip to the market, but she could picture the dress. Her nose crinkled into a frown as she stepped into her corset. “Right,” she grunted as she tried to pull the string taut. “Where was that again?”

She could hear Silas sigh. “Perhaps, if you did your chores, your room would be clean and you would know.”

Emrys screamed as her next pull yanked her off of her feet and she crashed to the floor. “I’m alright,” she assured Silas when he asked. It was better than when she’d used magic to draw the strings. Magic had worked a little _too_ well, and Emrys had almost broken two ribs in the process. She stood back up and resumed her lacing. “You wouldn’t—ugh! —happen to know—huh! —where that—ahh! —dress is—one more! —would you?”

She was on the tips of her toes, trying to hold in her chest until she was done lacing. As soon as she reached the last section, she tied the string off in a quick knot and took a deep breath—as deep as she could with her chest restricted.

“I recall seeing the dress on the edge of your bed earlier.”

Emrys walked over to the foot of her bed and threw back her blanket, revealing the long-sleeved, brown garment. She had a much easier time lacing that up than the corset—those things would be the death of her one day.

She laced up her leather shoes and raced out of her room, speeding by Silas. “I’m off!”

“Breakfast?” said Silas calmly.

Emrys ran back, grabbed a slab of bread, and planted a kiss on Silas’ cheek. “Thanks. _Now_ I’m off.”

“Emrys? I would think that I shouldn’t have to remind you to refrain from using magic.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said with a smile.

“And try not to kill Arthur,” he yelled as she raced out of his chambers.

“I can’t make any promises about that!”

 

~

 

Looking back on it, Emrys realized Silas should’ve made her promise not to kill Guinevere. The embittered lady-in-waiting was obviously less than pleased when Morgana relayed the story of Emrys’ previous adventures with Arthur. She managed to hide her disapproval well enough—she even managed to fake a pleasant lilt in her voice—but Emrys noticed the orange hue of Guinevere’s aura turn emerald as Morgana continued to praise Emrys.

“Ah, that’s right, Father,” said Morgana as she dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “If you’ve time, I’d like to discuss with you the change in Emrys’ position that I proposed yesterday.”

Emrys didn’t dare look at anyone, but it didn’t stop her from sensing the change in atmosphere. She looked up only after Guinevere cleared her throat and said, “I don’t see our usual bread on the table today. I assumed when we sat down that Reuben would bring it with him, but it’d seem that I was wrong. Emrys, go down to the kitchens and fetch it for us. The delivery boy must be cross for having to wait so long for you.”

Emrys almost dropped the jug of water as she went to place it on the table and managed a slight nod before escaping out the servants’ entrance. Should she have spoken up and told Morgana that she didn’t wish to be Arthur’s Protectorate? But then, how could she, with the risk of losing her head?

Morgana was different from her other family members—kind and compassionate where her brother and father were aggressive and bloodthirsty. Still, Emrys did not want to test the patience of any member of the Pendragon household.

The kitchens weren’t as busy as they’d been the night of the banquet, but the commotion was enough to confuse Emrys when she first got there. She was distracted momentarily by the smell of food. She made a mental note to herself to eat more before leaving for work.

Emrys shook her head, clearing her mind of the distracting thoughts of food as the smell of cooking and baking wafted around her. She supposed looking for a guy carrying bread would be the best idea.

He wasn’t hard to find. The bread boy was standing in the opposite corner, arguing with one of the overseers. Ebba, Emrys thought her name was. As Emrys took a closer look, she confirmed that it was she.

Ebba, much like she was named for, looked like a boar, with her short, stout body, and her pinched up face. “I can’t allow you to go up there! You weren’t invited to come before the king.”

“But I must get back, and you said I couldn’t just leave it here—that someone has to come and relieve me. If I don’t return soon, my master—”

“I’m here,” said Emrys quickly. She apologized to a passing cook as she bumped into them trying to get to the bread boy. “I’m here.”

The bread boy turned on her quickly. “Well, it’s about...time.”

Emrys could feel her insides heating up under the intense gaze of this serving boy. His eyes, a startling forest green, bore into her own eyes so deeply that she found herself beginning to lose focus. Before she could start babbling, Emrys forced her gaze to the floor and mumbled, “I apologize for my tardiness.”

“Ah, Emrys,” said Ebba, uncrossing her arms. She stretched up on her toes and smacked Emrys on the top of her head. “Consider that a warning, girl. This boy has held up my work for the last half hour. The next time your tardiness causes a commotion in my kitchen…”

“Yes, yes,” Emrys replied hastily, searching for a way to escape the scolding. She rubbed her forehead, successfully covering her eyes as she eyed the row of baked chicken. While she pondered the risk of using magic, she became aware of another’s force shifting through the kitchen. Behind her, someone was whispering faintly.

In front of her, a sudden force compelled one of the servants passing by the table to stumble. He landed on the table, which caused the baked chickens to fly off onto the floor. Emrys had to admit she wanted to laugh, but she was more concerned about how that had happened without her doing anything. Before she could turn around, she felt one hand grip her upper arm and lead her away as Ebba directed her anger towards the commotion. She realized as she was pushed toward the exit that it was the bread boy who was compelling her forward.

Once they were away from the scene, the bread boy dropped her arm. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled. With his head downcast, he held out the basket to her.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” said Emrys, feeling her cheeks heat up again. “I’m the one who was late.” Her hands grazed his as she went to receive the basket from him. She gasped suddenly as a surge of lingering power passed between their fingertips. “You have magic,” she whispered.

His face contorted in panic and he took a tentative step away from her.

“No, wait,” Emrys cried. “You do have magic, don’t you?”

He grabbed her arm again and pushed her back a few feet until they were hidden in a secluded hallway. “Don’t say anything.”

“Wait, wait,” she pleaded. “You don’t have to worry.” She glanced around to make sure no one else was around before allowing her magic to release itself in the form of swirling winds in her hands. “See?”

His green eyes were wide, but whether this was from shock or awe, Emrys didn’t know. “You’re like me,” he said.

Emrys smiled. “Yes,” she whispered. “We’re the same.”

“Where did you learn that? To do magic without words?”

Oh, how wonderful it was to be able to finally say her greatest burden out loud: “I was born like this.”

 

~

 

Emrys desperately wished to meet up with the bread boy again. She had missed the chance to learn his name when Reuben, who had come to look for her, had interrupted their meeting. Reuben had many questions about the bread boy—most of which Emrys couldn’t answer—as well as things to tell her about the ending of breakfast.

She didn’t know how it was possible, but Morgana had apparently succeeded in securing Emrys’ new position. Her days were now to be split, with Emrys taking up her handmaiden responsibilities in the mornings and evenings, and her Royal Guard duties in the afternoons.

“Or whenever Arthur leave the grounds,” Reuben concluded as he led her to the market.

“So what are we doing here? Shouldn’t I be working?”

“You complained about being in a dress, so Arthur told me to get you some new clothes.”

She could imagine the flippant way the prince had probably ordered this, and didn’t find it flattering in the least. She stepped away from her brother and walked through the aisles of tables. “How nice of him,” Emrys said dryly as she browsed through the fabrics.

Someone reached out and brushed their fingers against her forearm. In her ear, she heard a man’s voice say, “The prince is buying clothes for a servant girl with magic? How peculiar.”

When she turned around, she found that it was the bread boy from before. Smiling, she said, “You startled me for a moment. I was wondering when I might see you again. I never even got your name.”

“Faolán.” He smiled and bowed slightly at the waist. “Baker’s apprentice.”

“I’m Emrys, Princess Morgana’s new handmaiden.”

“The princess’ handmaiden? How’d you get that position?”

“The last one was killed.”

“So it’s dangerous, then?”

“Only sometimes,” she admitted. She picked up a bundle of dark gray fabric and inspected it as she talked. “But not for the same reasons.”

Understanding settled on Faolán’s face. “Uther. Does the princess know?”

“Gods, no! I’d lose my head if she did.” Emrys actually wasn’t sure what Morgana would do if she knew the truth.

He followed her through another aisle in silence, watching her as she inspected other colors. “So what’s it like being so close to the king?”

Her answer came immediately: “Terrifying. Every time he looks my way, I’m afraid he’ll realize what I am.”

Faolán stepped in front of her, stopping Emrys in her tracks. “Then why not put an end to your fear? You’re in the best position to stop all of this, Emrys.”

She shook her head. “It’s not as simple as that. And when was the last time someone with magic actually won against Uther?”

Emrys lifted her head and looked into Faolán’s eyes. In his green, she saw a fire, one that resonated within her, but she knew she had to quench. Arthur wasn’t ready to be king and she wasn’t ready to lose another person with magic so quickly. “The best thing you and I can do right now is look out for each other.”

His fire didn’t dim, but Faolán seemed satisfied with this for now. “Who got you that job, anyway?”

“Emrys,” cried Reuben suddenly as he made his way over to her.

“That would be him,” said Emrys, wincing slightly.

“Who is this?”

Emrys frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. She recognized the dismissive tone in his voice and didn’t appreciate it. He had no right to decide whom she could speak with. “Do you need something, Reuben?”

“Have you picked something out yet? If not, let’s go, and I’ll take you back another time.”

“Aren’t I still on my break right now? If Arthur doesn’t need me, I should be free, right?”

Reuben flashed a tense smile and grabbed Emrys’ wrist. “Not as long as you’re the princess’ handmaiden.”

“And if she isn’t,” said Faolán suddenly.

Reuben’s eyes narrowed at the baker’s apprentice. “Then not as long as I’m here. Don’t get your hopes up, baker’s boy. You’re magic, and if you know what she is then you must know how dangerous it is for her to be in this position. She doesn’t need anyone who’ll add to that danger.”

“I can take it away,” he promised. He looked at Emrys with earnest eyes. “We’ll look out for each other, won’t we, Emrys?”

Her heart leapt in her throat. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by Reuben: “I doubt it. What could you possibly do that she can’t?”

 

~

 

“Emrys,” cried Reuben as he chased her into Silas’ chambers. “Emrys!”

Silas leapt up from his workbench and stepped out of the way as Emrys stormed past him into her room. “Emrys? What’s wrong?” When Emrys didn’t answer, he turned to her brother and said, “What did you do?”

From behind her door, Emrys heard Reuben insist that he hadn’t done anything. “That’s a lie! He’s a liar! He ruins everything!”

He shouted back, “Say what you want, Emrys! What I did was for your own good. You don’t need that boy—he’s magic and trouble.”

“Am I trouble, then, since I’m also magic?” Wind slammed her window open and lifted the loose objects in her room in the air. “Is it such a crime to want to be with someone like me?”

“No one’s like you, Emrys,” said Silas, pressing up against her door. “It’s best that you don’t associate yourself with other magic users. Most are not as careful or as lucky as you in Camelot.”

Emrys hoped they could hear her scoff from behind her door. “Lucky? I suppose I should consider myself lucky, then, that Reuben’s practically chased away the only person I could talk to about this.”

“Emrys,” said Reuben softly. “I wanted to—” He gasped suddenly and Emrys heard something drop against the floor.

“Reuben,” cried Silas. “Reuben!”

Emrys raced out of her room and found her brother crumpled on the floor, sweating intensely. “Reuben! What happened? What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know. Let me try to find something to wake him. Get him on the bed.”

He was much too heavy for her, but Emrys managed to drag him onto the patient's’ bed. “Reuben, please get up.” How she wished she knew how to heal another person. She gasped suddenly and ran into her room. The book! Baelfire’s grimoire. Where had she left it?

The door slammed open in the other room as Emrys picked up the book. Emrys panicked when she saw Arthur standing in the door. In her haste, she threw the book to the side, vowing to find it again later.

“Arthur,” said Silas, bowing quickly before returning to his medicine.

“It happened to Reuben, too?”

“What do you mean,” Emrys said. “What’s happened?”

“Morgana’s collapsed. Guinevere said she was fine an hour ago, but now she’s on bed rest with a fever. She hasn’t said anything coherent so far.”

“What is going on,” Silas mumbled.

Reuben muttered something and suddenly began to cough. Emrys immediately ran to his side and pressed her hand to his forehead. Sure enough, he had a fever. “Silas, what is this? A sickness this intense doesn’t just manifest so suddenly in two people.”

“No, Emrys, you’re right. It doesn’t. This is some kind of virus—the work of a sorcerer, I fear.”

“Magic this powerful was used to make a servant sick?”

“I think this might’ve been more personal.”

“How do we stop this?” said Arthur.

“Without another incantation, I’m not sure there is a way to,” said Silas, shaking his head.

“That’s not an option,” Arthur muttered.

“Think, Silas,” Emrys pleaded. “There must be something you can do.”

Arthur crossed his arms. “What would you suggest, then, Emrys?”

Emrys looked up at the ceiling and saw a pair of silver eyes watching over her. She tried to keep still as Baelfire prodded her mind. “Licorice root,” she said, though it wasn’t her voice. “Doesn’t that treat viruses?”

Silas consulted his medicinal book and nodded. “Well, yes. I suppose that would work. But we would need a large amount, and they’re rare in Camelot—only found in the dark woods.”

“Isn’t there another place we can go to get this treatment,” Arthur asked. “Preferably one with more licorice root in stock?”

Silas shook his head. “Even if there were such a place, I doubt these two would have enough time left to wait for you to make the journey there and back. We’ll just have to hope that you’ll find enough there.”

Arthur nodded. “I’ll have my father bring Morgana here so you can keep an eye on her. Emrys, you should stay with Silas and take care of my sister.”

What did she do? Stay with her brother or help her destined? She swallowed back all her extra voices and followed her gut answer: “With all due respect, sire, I think I would be of better help to you if I were with you in the dark woods. I am, after all, first and foremost, Silas’ apprentice. You’ll need my knowledge of plants and herbs to find the correct treatment.”

Silas nodded and said, “It’s true, sire. I can take care of them here.”

“Besides, I want to help Morgana and...Reuben. He’s...he’s…” She began to choke up on tears as she looked upon her sickly brother.

Arthur gave her a gentle smile and put one hand on her shoulder. “I know. He’s precious to you. I understand.” He sighed, shook his head, and said, “Alright, Emrys. I’ll let you come along.”

Silas held Emrys back before she went chasing after Arthur. “Emrys, please be careful. I’ve warned you against going there for a reason. The dark woods appeared out of thin air in the early days of the Purge. Those trees are full of black magic and have been known to have drastic effects on even the most powerful of magical beings. If you’re going with Arthur, be wary of how your magic may react. I don’t want you in danger, too.”

“I’ll be careful,” Emrys promised. She nodded toward Reuben. “And I _will_ save him.”


	7. The Dark Woods (Arthur)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, Emrys, and the Knights travel into the Dark Woods to search for a cure for Morgana and Reuben.

“Were you not interested in using horses, sire,” said Gwaine. He smiled, even when Emrys turned to glare at him. “It was a simple question, dear. No need to get upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Emrys promised through tight teeth. “However, I’m surprised that you find it appropriate to make jokes at such a dire time as this. Your princess’ life is at stake, and you...”

Arthur could no longer hear Emrys’ rant over the rage of the winds. “Leave her alone, Gwaine. She’s right—we’ll need to take this seriously. The situation’s much too serious for us to spend any time making jokes. Besides, if these winds are any indication, I think whoever this sorcerer is knows we’re coming for him. We’ll need complete focus from everyone.”

Gwaine nodded and sobered immediately. “Yes, of course, sire. We’ll scout ahead.” Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, and Tristan hurried forward until they disappeared into the dark woods, leaving the prince and serving girl behind.

Emrys crossed her arms over her chest and tucked some loose hair behind her ear as the winds began to die back down. Arthur wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought he heard her mumble some gratitude. He turned to ask her to repeat herself, but was distracted by the sight of her apparel. “Emrys,” he groaned. “What _are_ you wearing?”

She looked down at herself. Obviously, she saw nothing wrong with her disgruntled trousers, loose slip, and leather slippers. “What do you mean? I told you I can’t go on these adventures with you in a dress.”

“Yes, and didn’t I send Reuben out to get you some more...appropriate clothes?”

“We weren’t able to finish shopping. What’s wrong with these?”

“You look…”

“I look like what?”

“Like a peasant.”

Emrys frowned as if she couldn’t believe what he’d just said. “Well, sire, this might surprise you, but that’s what I am.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to _look_ like one. I mean, for God’s sake, Emrys, you’re part of the Royal Guard now. You’d better look like you’re...well, part of the team.”

“I didn’t realize this was some sort of fashion parade. Forgive me for bringing my peasantry into this mix.” She stopped suddenly at the edge of the dark woods.

Arthur glanced back at her. “Are you coming, Emrys?”

He could tell that she was frightened, even without her saying anything. No doubt she was battling fears brought from the rumors of the dark woods. The stories made him a little nervous, too, but he had to push through his fears with so much at stake if they failed.

“I think it was a mistake, me coming here,” she whispered, her small voice barely audible with the growing sound of the mumblings of the dark woods.

“Hey,” he said, drawing her eyes away from the forest. “That’s not true. We need you for this, Emrys. You’re the only one who knows what the plant looks like—without you, we can’t save Morgana and Reuben. It was not a mistake, you being in Camelot. I see now that you’re here for a reason. Without you, Camelot would suffer a great loss.”

For a moment, he could’ve sworn she was about to cry. She glanced back at the trees and wiped at her eyes, pushing back any tears. With a sad smile, she said, “I should hope my purpose is not that great.”

Still feeling the need to comfort her, Arthur reached out to put a hand on her shoulder as he helped her take the first step. “Don’t worry. We’ll find the licorice root and save Morgana _and_ Reuben. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

She sniffled and managed to smile. “You seem pretty sure, Pendragon. What makes you so confident nothing will happen?”

He shrugged, not truly knowing the answer himself. Seeing that she was unhappy with this, he decided on saying, “I just have a feeling.”

At that moment, the whispers from the forest increased, and the winds began to rage again, bending the trees toward the pair. On instinct, Arthur drew his sword and stepped in front of Emrys. “Lancelot! Gwaine!” he yelled into the dark woods, hoping that the knights hadn’t gone too far. A black mist crept out of the darkness of the trees and inched toward them.

“What’s happening,” Emrys asked, stepping backwards to avoid the mist.

“If I had one guess, I’d say it was the sorcerer! Stay behind me!”

No sooner did he say this did the black mist become a wave and overtake them both. Arthur swung his sword around wildly, but the mist came back thicker with each swing. “I don’t have time for this,” he yelled in frustration. He had to get the licorice root. He had to find his knights. He had to find— “Emrys! Where are you? Emrys!”

He thought he heard someone yell his name back, but their voice was drowned out by the increase of mystical voices in the dark woods. Arthur abandoned the idea of using his sword again and chose a direction to run. Despite his great skills in tracking and navigating, Arthur found that he had no clear way of determining where he was going or if it was doing him any good. No matter where he went, the fog didn’t lessen and the trees surrounding him didn’t differentiate amongst themselves.

Arthur sunk to the ground and fell back on his arse. If he stayed there long enough, maybe he would be able to figure something out. For a long time, he received no answer. Finally, Arthur grabbed his hair and clenched his hands into fists. “Reveal yourself, sorcerer! I know you’re there!”

For once, the voices in the dark woods ceased. From the darkness to his immediate right, Arthur heard a male say, “Who are you to demand that I reveal myself to you?”

Arthur quickly got to his feet and gripped his sword tightly in his fists. “I am—”

“I know very well who you are, Arthur Pendragon. What I mean is who are you to _me_? Do you not see my power? Should such a being be bound to an earthly ruler such as yourself? Why have you and your knights invaded my woods?”

“I come to your dark woods only to find a cure for the curse _you_ have placed on the princess and my servant.”

“Why should I let you break my curse? I put a lot of work into that spell, you know.”

“They have not wronged you, sorcerer,” Arthur yelled. He could barely make out a dark shape in front of him. Subtly, he turned his body toward the figure and angled his sword precariously.

The sorcerer scoffed. “Haven’t they? As indirect as it may be, they’ve caused me pain, Pendragon. And my grace only extends so far.”

Arthur sobered and lowered his sword a little. “Please, sorcerer, I beg you. They don’t deserve this. What do you want in return for the licorice root?”

“Licorice root?” A beat of silence followed as the sorcerer processed the information. “You’ll need more than that for your cure, Pendragon. You need my magic, too—a lot more than what I used to put the plague in place.”

“Please,” Arthur begged. “I’ll do anything for it. Name your price, sorcerer.”

The whispers picked up as the sorcerer pondered for a moment. “Very well. Not too long ago, there was a girl looking for the same plant.”

“Emrys?” Arthur remembered how frightened Emrys had been before coming to the dark woods. How scared she must be at this moment!

“Yes, that would be her. If you want to save your sister and your servant, you must leave the girl here.”

Dread fell over Arthur. “What use would you have of Emrys?”

“That is not for you to know, Pendragon!”

“Please, ask for something else—anything else. I can give you gold.”

“I wouldn’t trade possession of this girl for any amount of gold.”

“I can pardon you! I can guarantee that no harm will come to you from my father’s hand. You’ll be protected.”

“The girl will provide me with all the protection I need.”

“Please, I can’t give you Emrys.”

“What do you care? She’s but a serving girl in your castle. What value does she hold for you?”

“I...” Arthur didn’t know what to say. He’d never thought about what Emrys might mean to him. Still, he knew that the sorcerer wouldn’t accept this for an answer. “She’s my sister’s favorite handmaiden. Morgana’d never forgive me if I traded Emrys’ life for hers.”

The sorcerer was silent for a long time. Then, finally, he said, “I will accept nothing other than the girl. If you can’t bring yourself to release the girl to me, then I will simply take her myself, and you can forget about the cure. I hope Camelot is prepared for the death of your sister.”

Arthur lifted his sword and, with an outraged yell, lunged at the dark shadow. The figure became one with the darkness around them and slipped away from the edge of Arthur’s sword. A deep chuckle rumbled through the forest, and Arthur felt a tingle down his spine as he spun around to try and find the sorcerer.

In the distance, four dark figures approached him on all sides. Arthur prepared himself and charged the one directly in front of him. To his surprise, his sword met another’s. The figure and its sword feigned left and spun out to its right, a move that was all too familiar to Arthur. “Tristan!” he cried as he ducked underneath his swing.

His attackers ceased where they were. “Arthur,” said the one in front, definitely Tristan. The shadows remained, but it was obvious that the four figures surrounding him were his knights.

“Well, that’s a relief,” said the shadow behind Arthur, in a voice that matched Gwaine’s usual tone. “I was beginning to think I’d never find you lot. I thought you all were playing another prank on me.”

“It’s no prank, Gwaine,” Arthur assured him. “But has anyone seen the sorcerer? He’s after Emrys.”

The giant figure to his left unsheathed its sword. “What does the sorcerer want with our little wench?”

“I don’t know, but we need to find Emrys, get the root, and get back to Camelot quickly.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, sire,” said Gwaine, “but our vision’s still a little less than clear at the moment. How are we supposed to do any of that? The sorcerer has the upper hand.”

Arthur ignored Gwaine and yelled into the mist. “Emrys!” After his third try, the other knights joined him in calling for the handmaiden. Arthur could feel sweat begin to form on his forehead. Nothing could make him want to find Emrys more, but he was actually beginning to worry about what Morgana would do to him if the girl were truly lost to the sorcerer forever. Whatever plagues the sorcerer could conjure up to afflict him with would probably be a treat compared to the scourge that Morgana would bring.

“Wait,” cried Lancelot suddenly. “Do you guys hear that?”

Arthur did. It was faint, but the voice calling his name was steadily growing. “Emrys!” he rejoiced, happily running in the direction of the sound. As he ran, he saw a breaking point in the fog. The break of light in the fog was moving toward him. As he got closer, Arthur saw that it was Emrys, surrounded by a bright light.

He stopped running, though he was certain that what he was seeing was not a vision from the sorcerer. “Emrys?” The knights had stopped beside him as well.

She smiled and closed the distance between all of them, clutching something in her hands. “I’m so glad I finally found you guys! I found the licorice root. Silas was wrong—there was plenty to spare.” Her smile faded as she looked around at the others. “What’s wrong?”

Arthur wanted to rejoice, but he couldn’t get over the bright light. “Emrys, I can see you.”

She frowned and said, “Congratulations. I can see you too, sire. All of you. Now, shouldn’t we get out of here to get the cure to Silas?”

“She’s right, sire,” said Lancelot. “We’ve no time to waste. The sorcerer may return.”

“Yes,” Gwaine agreed, “but the prince has a point. You lot are all shadows, but Emrys is the only thing I can actually see.”

Emrys fidgeted underneath their gazes. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong with you? I can see everything and everyone perfectly fine. Can’t you?”

“The sorcerer was looking for you, Emrys,” Percival’s shadow said. “He must’ve done this to you to make you easier to find.”

Arthur watched Emrys closely as the other knights contributed their own ideas. Where she stepped, he could see the part of the forest that surrounded her; beyond Emrys, the darkness returned and covered his sight. The light that encased her was so vibrant and brilliant that Arthur swore it was otherworldly. It definitely made her more noticeable. He looked away suddenly as she caught him staring—she must have been able to see him looking at her. She could see everything. “Wait! You can see everything, Emrys?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “I just said that.”

“Then you can see Camelot. You can lead us out of here!”

Emrys nodded and stretched her hand out to him. As soon as the licorice roots dropped into his hand, they became shadows. “Hold onto these, then.” She turned, located the castle, and raced off in that direction.

Arthur and the knights did their best to look out for the sorcerer’s figure. If Percival was right, and the sorcerer _had_ marked Emrys to find her, then it was only a matter of time before the only light thing in the dark woods drew his attention.

Luckily for them all, Emrys didn’t have her skirts to slow her down. Arthur couldn’t help but notice how natural she looked, running amongst nature. For a moment, he thought he was seeing yet another version of Emrys—not the Emrys who was his sister’s handmaiden, nor the Emrys who infuriated and intrigued him with her mysterious, natural power. This was the Emrys who would probably be content to run forever in the essence of nature.

Arthur shook these thoughts away and followed her to the edge of the dark woods. As his knights passed over, they became clear to him too. Arthur’s legs pushed harder against the ground, spurring him forward. His body crashed against the edge, as if a barrier had formed between him and the light.

“Arthur,” Emrys screamed.

“What is this,” Arthur asked as he pushed against the barrier.

“I told you, Pendragon,” said the sorcerer behind him. “Either the girl or the licorice root stays. What will it be?”

Arthur clenched his fists over the hilt of his sword.

“Fine. Then I’ll let the girl decide. If you choose to stay with me here, then the prince may bring the root to his sister and servant. If you should choose not to, then, you should still have time to say your goodbyes when you return.”

For a moment, Arthur thought she was actually considering his request. He had the sinking feeling that Emrys wouldn’t hesitate to voluntarily go with the sorcerer if it meant she could save Morgana and Reuben.

“What do you want with me,” Emrys asked.

“You’re a very unique girl, Emrys. One that, after finding you, I’ve come to realize I can’t be without. With you by my side, I’d be untouchable. No match for the king of Camelot or any kingdom, for that matter.”

The sorcerer stepped forward, out of the dark woods, and reached for Emrys, grazing her cheek with his fingers. She gasped at the touch and flinched away from him. “We could—”

“ _No_ ,” Arthur roared, unsheathing his sword and dropping the root. He wasn’t sure what he could do against a sorcerer, but he knew he didn’t want him to touch Emrys. He swung his weapon upward, toward the hooded sorcerer’s head, and heard a satisfying scream from the sorcerer as the blade met skin. Before anyone else could react, Arthur ran forward, past the edge of the dark woods.

Breaking past the trees was like a splash of refreshing water against the face; his vision only took a moment to right itself again. He didn’t let his recuperating vision deter him. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he grabbed Emrys’ hand, and he propelled himself forward. His knights and Emrys kept at his heels, and they didn’t stop running, not even when they were behind the gates.

He had struck the sorcerer and left him alive to eventually exact revenge. His father would be disappointed. Whatever curse the sorcerer brought on Camelot now would be his own fault. He’d been given a choice and he had chosen the serving girl over his sister—the princess. But as much as his decision didn’t make sense to him, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

He knew, without a doubt, that he would’ve chosen to save Emrys a thousand times. He could only hope that Silas had found some other way to save his sister and Reuben.

“Emrys! Arthur,” Silas cried, standing up to greet them. “You’ve arrived just in time! The only thing the elixir needs is the licorice root. You have it, right?”

“Silas,” Emrys started.

“We failed,” Arthur finished for her. “We came across the sorcerer and he made it impossible for us to come back with the cure.” He looked at Morgana, who was deathly pale and had broken out in a sweat. Unlike Reuben, who was breathing heavily from his cot, Morgana was almost perfectly still, save for her quivering lips. Even on her deathbed, his sister was perfectly regal.

“That’s not true!” Emrys cried.

Wasn’t it enough that he wouldn’t be able to save his sister because of her? How could she be so cruel as to tease him with this hope? Arthur turned to yell at her, but stopped when he saw what Emrys was pulling from her pockets. “Emrys…”

The knights whooped loudly and hugged each other. Arthur found that one of the tears he had been suppressing had managed to slip through. All he could do was stare at the most wonderful miracle he had ever witnessed, and it had come in the form of a plant.

Emrys glanced at Arthur and said, “I told you there was plenty to spare.” She passed the white flowers to Silas, who quickly snipped the bottoms off and added them to the bubbling substance on his workbench. Together, Emrys and Silas fed the brown liquid to Morgana and Reuben.

Once all the elixir had been drunk, Emrys stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her mouth, whispering what Arthur assumed to be soft prayers. Her eyes filled to the brim with tears as what felt like an eternity passed.

Suddenly, Reuben and Morgana sat up with a gasp, the inhale of air bringing color back to their faces. Emrys let out a joyous cry and threw herself into Reuben’s arms, blubbering incoherent words all the while. Arthur sat by his sister’s cot and drew her close to him, not caring if the knights saw him in an emotional state.

Somewhere, among all the celebration, Arthur heard his father burst into the room. “Silas? I heard that Arthur had returned, and…” His worried face melted into a grateful smile as his eyes fell on his daughter. “Morgana. Oh, my girl, you have no idea how happy I am to see you well again. I didn’t know how I would go on without you.” He rubbed Arthur’s head. “Without _both_ of you.”

From underneath his father’s hand, Arthur caught sight of Emrys, whose face was resting against Reuben’s shoulder. For the first time in all the years that Arthur had known him, his manservant looked content and happy in Emrys’ arms. And Arthur didn’t doubt that this wasn’t the first time Reuben’d found comfort being with her.

When Emrys rose to tend to Morgana—and accept more praise—Arthur caught Reuben’s eyes. In that moment, he remembered that before Reuben had fallen ill, he’d proclaimed that there was something he’d wanted to publicly announce about his relationship with Emrys. Arthur was pretty sure he knew what it was about now.

Arthur started to smirk at the idea of his manservant and the handmaiden, but stopped when he realized there was something about the familiarity between the two that didn’t quite suggest a romance. He could always wait until Reuben revealed the truth of their relationship, but he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to hear what Reuben had to say about it.

Arthur decided right then and there he would make sure Reuben didn’t get the chance to say it.

The sudden weight of his father’s hand clapping down on his shoulder shook Arthur from his thoughts. “It would seem that Emrys has proved herself to be rather valuable to this family. I must admit, after hearing about all of her adventures these last few days, I’m quite intrigued by Morgana’s new handmaiden.”

“You aren’t the only one,” Arthur mumbled. Remembering his duty, suddenly, he said, louder, “Father, there’s a lot I wish to tell you.”

 

~

 

“Ah, Emrys,” said Arthur, stepping out of his room as the handmaiden was leaving Morgana’s. “Have I caught you at a bad time?”

He knew that he had—he’d done so on purpose—but Emrys merely sighed in response. Even after today’s long events, Emrys had returned to the princess’ side to complete her duties. She was, no doubt, exhausted, but Arthur had to admire her dedication to his sister. Her level of enthusiasm to the serve his sister had almost outlasted Arthur’s level of commitment to patiently wait just inside his door for the chance to speak with her again.

Almost.

Emrys plastered a much-too-sweet-smile onto her face and said, “Of course not, Your Highness.”

A genuine smile stretched across Arthur’s. “I wanted to discuss the little prank you pulled on me this afternoon. Why didn’t you tell me you had more of the licorice root?”

“I did, sire. It isn’t my fault you jumped to conclusions. I hope Silas will never be in need of more licorice root now—we used up the rest of the root that was in my pockets.”

It didn’t matter how surly she was—Arthur couldn’t stop smiling. He raised an eyebrow at her and said, “Considering the circumstances, I think Silas will find it in him to forgive me. I did give it up for a noble cause.”

This time it was her eyebrows that rose. “Oh? What cause was that?” Seemingly intrigued now, she crossed her arms against her chest.

Did she really _not_ know? “That sorcerer wanted to trap you with him forever in exchange for those roots.”

Emrys’ expression sobered and she suddenly couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. Arthur cursed himself from bringing up the sorcerer. That wasn’t what he’d practiced telling her in his bedroom. “Yes…I heard him,” she whispered.

“Well,” he said, scrambling to undo his mistake, “didn’t you realize that I chose to save you?”

She scoffed again and the smile returned. “I’d hardly call that saving me. I was free to run, if I’d wanted to. It wasn’t as if the sorcerer was hostile about his proposition.”

“I don’t think you’re realizing the gravity of the situation, Emrys. Hostile or not, I chose _your_ life over my servant’s _and_ my sister’s. Had you not had more of the root, they would’ve died.” Saying it out loud once again brought the severe weight of it all back onto Arthur’s shoulders.

“Well, then, why did you make that choice,” she asked, bringing his attention back to her. “You had every right to leave me behind—never mind our positions—with the lives of _two_ other people at stake. Why did you even consider saving me?”

“Well,” said Arthur, rubbing the back of his neck, as he pondered his answer. He hadn’t anticipated her asking this. “Whether or not either of us enjoy it, we’re a team. And members of a team always look out for each other.”

She was silent for a moment, and he feared he’d said too much, that he’d effectively scared her away. Then, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. “Thank you, then, for saving my life,” she whispered, though he heard it clear as a bell.

Warmth exploded in his left breast—so hot, he feared she’d be able to feel it herself. This wasn’t the response he’d gotten from the Emrys he’d pretended to talk to in his room—all he’d gotten from her was a snarky remark and a tantalizing wave. Arthur cleared his throat and said, “Well, yet again, you saved mine first. And besides, Morgana would’ve killed me if I’d let you run off.”

Emrys laughed and stepped back, breaking their hug. “I suppose she would’ve.”

Arthur felt the warmth again as she looked up at him. It encouraged him to keep speaking: “The important thing, Emrys, is that something like this will never happen again.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion, but she didn’t lose her smile. “What do you mean?”

“I went to my father and we think we’ve found the perfect solution to ridding Camelot of this plague sorcerer before he has the chance to strike again.” He’d felt so proud when his father had approved of his idea; he wanted her to feel proud of him too. “Father’s hired a witch hunter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, SOME good came out of the plague sorcerer's arrival—we got a look into Arthur's emotional side. Speaking of, next chapter you'll get a reveal AND a POV you haven't seen before: Morgana's! I think it's time we see what she thinks of everything. As always. please don't forget to write a review! Happy reading!


	8. The Witch Hunter (Morgana)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana suffers from a dream about the infamous witch hunter, who is scheduled to arrive in Camelot very soon.

_Executed at dawn._

_Despite the blindfold, she knew exactly where she was; the stiff prodding of the pyre in her back and the roaring insults of the crowd serving as her reminder. She rolled her shoulders, testing the limited range of movement she was allowed with her hands being constricted from behind. A sharp pain in her upper back told her it wasn’t a lot._

_“I told you I would see you burn,” said a man in front of her. His unrecognizable voice sent a chill down her spine, making her tremble._

_She tried to speak up against his accusations, but her surveyors drowned any sound she made out. Instead, she began to wiggle, despite the pain, and pulled against her bonds. She stopped when someone suddenly struck her against her cheek. Blood boiled in her mouth as a hand clamped down on her neck and forced her head back upwards._

_The blindfold was roughly snatched off of her face, the guard ripping a few flyaway hairs from her neck along with the cloth. Though the afternoon sun threatened to blind her, she forced herself to glare at the man standing in front of her._

_He didn’t flinch away from her gaze; in fact, the corner of his mouth twitched up in a half-smile. The man leaned forward on his cane, peering at her with his empty black eyes. He frowned for a moment when she spat her blood at his feet, but regained his composure as he turned to face the crowd._

_“I give to you, the witch of Camelot: Emrys!”_

 

A scream burst from Morgana’s throat as she sat upright in her bed. Someone called her name and suddenly warm arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders, cradling her face and drawing her into the safety of the comforter’s body. As the hands smoothed back the curls on her head, a voice hummed a simple lullaby until Morgana’s hyperventilation slowed to soft breathing.

“Morgana, are you alright?”

She recognized the voice as her handmaiden’s without looking up. Morgana sniffled and held Emrys close to her, wishing that she could stay forever in Emrys’ comforting arms while she let the nightmare dwindle to a mere memory. “Oh, Emrys, I had a terrible, terrible nightmare.”

Too late, she realized what she’d said aloud. While Emrys was definitely the person Morgana wanted to be around in that moment, she was also the person she wanted to see her like this the least. She laughed bitterly at fate’s sense of humor and pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry, Emrys. It’s normally Guinevere who has to deal with me when I’m like this.”

“No, no,” Emrys said soothingly. “I don’t mind at all. Do you want to talk about it, princess? I don’t want you to feel like you have to deal with this by yourself.”

Morgana smiled and shook her head. Her handmaiden was both strong and sweet, but Emrys couldn’t possibly handle the burden of Morgana’s nightmares. What was worse, Morgana feared that, though Emrys might not think much of the dreams, someone else would if she spoke of them. Especially since Morgana’s nightmares had a strange tendency of actually coming to pass. “I’ll be fine, Emrys. You needn’t worry about me.”

Only a beat passed between them before Emrys said, “It’s the witch hunter, isn’t it? Reuben said he’s supposed to arrive today.”

Morgana smile fell at Emrys’ mention of Reuben. In the past two weeks, she’d noticed that Reuben had become increasingly obsessed with being around Emrys. Guinevere—ever the gossip—had reported back to Morgana with news from Arthur of the possible attraction between her handmaiden and his manservant. Since then, Morgana had dedicated herself to working with Arthur to keep the two separated.

Morgana was startled by her covetous feelings toward her handmaiden, but not enough to stop what she was doing. But if Emrys caught on, Morgana was sure she’d disapprove. And so, Morgana regained her smile and said, “I’m glad you and Reuben have found time to be with each other.”

If Emrys _had_ discovered the truth, it didn’t show. The girl simply smiled and said, “I only see him for a little time before and after work, and all he talks about is Arthur.”

A tight laugh came out of Morgana. “That’s funny—Arthur seems to think that he only speaks of you. Do you have any idea what Reuben’s been trying to say all this time?”

Emrys shook her head and made her way over to the window to draw the curtains back. “He won’t tell me. Apparently, he really wants the revelation to be in front of _everyone_. I can only imagine what he’s planning on saying.”

Morgana found that she _could_ imagine exactly what Reuben had to say, and once again she was surprised of her jealousy. It wasn’t as if any relation between Reuben and Emrys would change Emrys’ presence in Morgana’s life. The thought of her feelings toward hers and Arthur’s servants having a romantic rendezvous baffled her, almost to the point of forgetting the witch hunter. Almost, until Guinevere burst into her chambers, saying quickly, “He’s here!”

 

~

 

Morgana felt as if her heart was going to burst as she awaited the witch hunter’s entrance. Though her face was perfectly tame, her hands betrayed her real feelings as they wrung nervously within the folds of her dress. She would’ve given anything _not_ to be in the grand hall at that time.

As if she could sense her mistress’ distress, Emrys slid a comforting hand over Morgana’s shoulder and squeezed gently. When Morgana looked up from her seat, Emrys smiled, as if to say that everything would be alright. She wished that she could believe that, after her dream. It seemed that this man would be nothing else but added anxiety.

It seemed that Arthur believed the witch hunter would lead to the end of Camelot’s troubles, though. He stood beside their father, at the base of the royal seats, and turned around often to flash a bright smile at Morgana. Although, if Morgana thought twice about it, it seemed more like he was smiling at Emrys.

The last time Camelot had hired the witch hunter, at least twenty people had burned. Her father had described it as “exciting”. Emrys wouldn’t possibly have known about that and had more than likely inquired about the witch hunter. Morgana was sure that this was only the beginning of the “excitement” Arthur may have promised Emrys.

The guards at the end of the hall separated to open the doors, revealing a tall, thin man in an overcoat. The sound of his cane striking against the floor echoed as he made his way up to Uther.

“Camelot welcomes you, Malin,” Uther proclaimed, his hand extended to greet the witch hunter. “It’s good to have you here, old friend.”

Morgana bit back her astonishment when Malin simply sneered at Uther’s hand, choosing to lean upon his cane instead. “You’ve grown soft, Uther. You have allowed magic to infiltrate your kingdom. Even as I stand here in your hall, I feel overwhelmed with its very presence.”

Morgana had never seen her father so embarrassed! Uther cleared his throat and retracted his hand subtly. He nodded toward Arthur and said, “You remember my son, Arthur. He will be aiding you during your stay.”

Arthur dutifully acknowledged the witch hunter and said, “My men and I are at your service, should you need any assistance.”

Malin did not smile. “My boy, by the time you even began to rally your men, I will have already finished my business.” His bottomless eyes flicked up to meet Morgana’s for a moment, narrowing as if he were in deep thought. She feared for a moment that he would speak to her.

But, shifting his weight onto his better leg, Malin looked back at Uther and said, “I trust, Uther, that you have the proper accommodations in order for me. There is work to be done and I’d like to get started as soon as possible.”

Uther cleared his throat again and said, “Yes, of course. I’d like that too. We thank you again for making the long trip here.”

“It’s worth it. When I’m done, Camelot will no longer be harrowed by sorcery or those who pursue it. Have your pyre ready, Uther; I expect to see a witch burning soon.”

 

~

 

“I can’t believe Father brought him back,” Morgana fumed as she watched herself in the mirror. Guinevere stood behind her, undoing the braid that traveled down Morgana’s back in preparation for bed. “After all the distress Malin caused last time…”

“I’m sure it’s for the best, Morgana.”

Morgana scoffed loudly. “For whom? Father has no real reason to pick a quarrel with these people.”

“Morgana, you almost _died_ because of those people.”

“But I didn’t—”

“Because Emrys and Arthur happened to get lucky.” Guinevere shrugged when Morgana turned to look at her in surprise. “It’s the truth, Morgana, and you know it. I don’t think I could handle another close call like that.”

Morgana opened her mouth to say something, but was cut short when she heard Arthur yelling outside her door. After settling into her robe, she nodded for Guinevere to open the door. “Arthur! What are you fussing about?”

Arthur, a frown still set upon his face, turned away from his manservant and said, “It’s none of your concern, Morgana. Reuben just seems to be having trouble focusing as of late.”

She could imagine he was. “Is it about Emrys?” Morgana asked, flashing Reuben a pained smile.

Reuben coughed and fidgeted in place before answering: “I was just wondering, princess, where Emrys was.”

Now that she thought about it, Morgana realized that she hadn’t seen Emrys for a while. “Is she still training?”

Arthur shook his head and indicated toward the end of the hall. “I sent Emrys off with Guinevere an hour ago.”

When Morgana turned toward Guinevere, her lady-in-waiting said, “The witch hunter called for her.”

Before Morgana could even begin to move, Reuben sprinted off in the direction of the witch hunter’s room, ignoring all cries of protest from Arthur. Morgana lifted the skirts of her dress and, urging the other two to follow her, raced after Reuben.

She couldn’t explain her fear, but she knew that there was something bad about Emrys being with the witch hunter. Even though she knew it was irrational to believe anything other than Emrys being perfectly fine, she couldn’t ignore her gut feeling that something was wrong.

As Morgana rounded the corner, she saw Reuben pounding on Malin’s door. In his haste, he must’ve forgotten his etiquette, because he had begun to shout for Malin to hurry.

“What?” Malin roared when he had opened the door. “What, boy?”

“Malin,” said Morgana quickly, stepping in for Reuben. All sense of animosity toward the manservant disappeared. “Forgive us. We’re a little pressed to find my maidservant, Emrys.”

Malin leaned against his cane and shrugged his shoulders in indifference. “I can’t help you much, if you don’t know yourself.” Nodding toward Arthur, he said, “I sent the girl off a few moments ago with one of your knights.”

“One of my knights,” Arthur repeated, his face twisted in confusion.

“Yes, I’m sure he said you’d sent for her to return to the stables. I told her we would continue our discussion afterwards.”

“What knight? Who did you send her with,” cried Reuben desperately.

Malin turned his cold eyes on the manservant and sneered. “You’d do well to remember your place, even in your distress. I didn’t care to remember the knight’s name, but he reeked of wine.”

Morgana didn’t need Arthur to confirm her suspicion, but she felt her stomach lurch anyway when Arthur said, “Heior. We need to get to the stables and find Emrys. Now is not the time for him to be teasing her.”

“I fear this is not about horses, sire,” Reuben said in a voice barely above a whisper.

In the look that he shared with his manservant, Arthur seemed to realize some hidden subtext and hurried out the corridor with the others trailing behind him. Morgana hadn’t thought it was possible, but she was pretty sure Arthur was even faster than Reuben had been before.

The first thing Morgana looked for was Emrys when she reached the inside of the stables. Instead she found Heior, who was clutching the side of his face as he leaned against one of the posts. “You little churl,” he yelled, spitting a dark liquid from his lips. As he turned, he caught sight of his audience of four. He spit again and attempted a smile. “Arthur!”

Arthur’s face was dark as he stepped in front of Morgana. “Where’s Emrys, Heior?”

Another spit. “Dunno. Ssssomewhere around here, I’m sssssure,” he slurred. “Wouldn’t even give me a kissssss, y’know! The little mudsssscraper—hic!—hit me with a s-shovel and fled. Can you believe it? Should count herself lucky I wanted to ssssard her, even with her small diddeys.”

Arthur grabbed his sword, but he didn’t reach Heior before Reuben, who tackled the drunken knight to the ground. Morgana screamed, but it wasn’t louder than Emrys’ as the handmaiden appeared out of the darkness of the stables. To Morgana’s relief, Emrys seemed unharmed, save for a long tear in the sleeve of her dress, a reddened cheek, and disheveled hair.

Morgana turned back around to see that Arthur was now struggling to pull Reuben off of Heior. For a moment, Morgana feared the worst for her friends; Heior was not the best fighter, and could be easily overpowered, but he was known to be more reckless when inebriated.

But Heior’s desperate hands did nothing to protect him from Reuben’s raining punches. Even when Arthur finally managed to separate the two, Reuben continued to claw at Heior, yelling all the while, “You varlot! You misbegotten son of a whore! I’ll _kill_ you! Don’t you _ever_ touch her again, or I’ll see to it that you burn in hell!”

As soon as the words had left his lips, Heior screamed and burst into flames. Arthur and Reuben scrambled to get out of the burning knight’s way; Guinevere fled the stables; Morgana stood frozen in shock.

Emrys ran forward, past the frightened horses, and wrapped her arms around the inflamed Heior. With unimaginable strength, she threw him off his course and pulled him toward the water trough. A charred elbow caught her in the face, but Emrys shook her head and pushed against Heior until they both fell face first into the water.

Arthur grabbed a bucket, filled it with water from the trough, and poured it over Heior’s body while Emrys tried to splash as much water as she could onto him. When the fire had been extinguished, Morgana saw that Heior was slumped against the trough, his body blackened by the fire. Arthur poked him with his foot and then leaned down to press his ear to Heior’s mouth, only to confirm that Heior was, in fact, dead.

Emrys crumpled to the floor and, placing her hands over her mouth, shook from her unreleased sobs. For a while the only sound in the stables was that of the scared horses.

Reuben dropped to his knees and pulled Emrys into a tight hug, holding her close to him by her neck. “Emrys,” he sighed, planting a long kiss on her forehead. “Emrys, are you alright?”

She shook her head, saying, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried, but I couldn’t...I wasn’t able to…”

Reuben shushed her and hugged her even tighter. “It’s okay. It’s alright. Did he hurt you?”

“No,” Emrys whispered into his shoulder, and Morgana realized that Emrys hadn’t been hurt at all. For a girl who had just dragged a burning knight into a water trough, she had no marks to show for it. Emrys’ skin was surprisingly smooth.

Morgana wasn’t the only one who had noticed. “No,” said Arthur roughly. He stepped over Heior’s body and made his way over to Emrys, who rose to meet him. In one swift move, he grabbed Emrys by her shoulders and looked her over. “You’re not in the least bit injured. Why?”

“Arthur,” Reuben started, standing up as well. “I can explain things.”

“Well, then explain, Reuben. What’s going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” said Uther, as he walked into the stables. Guinevere, Silas, and Malin trailed behind him, leading a small group of his knights. Uther eyed Heior as Silas went to inspect him and then turned his gaze back to Reuben. “Please explain this to me.”

Arthur let go of Emrys and spun around to face his father. “Father,” he started to say, but silenced himself when Uther raised his hand.

Uther lowered his hand and said, “Your lady-in-waiting, Morgana, came to me saying that one of the knights had burst into flames. I see now that you’ve managed to put him out. I simply want to know what happened.”

Arthur cleared his throat and recalled the events for his father. Morgana noticed that Arthur strayed away from describing what had obviously been magic, but Uther asked about it anyway. When Arthur didn’t respond, Malin stepped forward.

“I can explain that part, sire. I feel I don’t need to say this, but it’s obvious that the magic in Camelot is much closer than any of us probably expected. If I had to wager a guess as to who the sorcerer was who killed this knight,” he said as he pointed an accusing finger to his right, “I’d say that it was the girl, Emrys.”

Morgana could feel herself losing color. Without realizing it, she had crossed the stables and taken hold of Emrys’ hands. The girl was stunned into silence, leaving Morgana to plead for her: “Malin, you must be mistaken.”

“I’m never mistaken. Your handmaiden’s a witch and I can prove it. Looking at her now, I can clearly see that she is a despicable creature of magic.” He turned his dark eyes to Emrys, saying, “You may as well admit it, girl. You’ve been caught.”

“Father, please,” Arthur protested. “This is ridiculous! Emrys isn’t a sorceress.”

Uther didn’t seem convinced. “You didn’t seem to believe the same thing a moment ago.”

“Then let me ease your mind, sire,” said Silas. “I’ve lived with the girl—I know her. She’s no sorceress.”

“She could’ve put you under a spell, Silas,” Malin challenged. “We cannot trust what any of you may say. Not when she may be using her powers to her benefit.”

Silas narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw before answering. “I may be old, Malin, but I’m still aware of when my mind is my own. I can accurately and positively state that the girl does not have magic. She’s unaffected by such practices.”

Morgana’s ears pricked at that word. “Unaffected,” she repeated. Then, because everything finally made perfect sense, Morgana began to laugh. “That’s what it is!”

She was aware that everyone was staring at her as if she’d gone mad, but she didn’t care. She understood exactly what was going on now, and when Uther asked her to elaborate, she happily said, “Emrys is unaffected by magical practices! She’s impervious to magic!”

There was a beat of silence throughout the stables before Malin repeated what she said. “Yes,” Morgana exclaimed. “Just think about it! When Emrys first came to us, she was the only one who saw through Noren, the only one who was able to get to Arthur when everyone else was frozen or controlled—that’s why he was interested in her!”

Arthur must’ve realized the connection as well, because he laughed loudly and said, “The plague sorcerer—even he said that Emrys was unique! He must’ve known that Emrys couldn’t be touched by magic and anyone with her would be protected. That’s why he tried to take her with him.”

Emrys fidgeted nervously underneath everyone’s gaze and looked down at her feet, only to look up when Malin spoke again: “I highly doubt she’s resistant to magic—I’ve never heard of such a trait.”

“I’ve seen it before,” Silas said suddenly. “It’s an extremely rare trait, but it’s one that’s still possible to possess. I’d thought those born with it were extinct before meeting Emrys.”

Malin scoffed loudly and then spit into the hay at his feet. “It sounds like a different branch of magic, sire.”

“It isn’t! It’s not magical at all.” Morgana had never seen Silas so angry before. The calm physician had never once raised his voice in all the years Morgana’d known him. Perhaps, Malin’s presence was enough to strain everyone’s patience.

“Then why is this just now being made known?”

“I instructed her not to tell anyone. I didn’t want her gift to be misunderstood, as it is now.”

“Malin,” said Uther, “I’d like to return to this topic later. There is still the issue of the sorcerer at large. Do you think it’s possible this was done by the plague sorcerer?”

Malin sniffed and eyed Emrys. “I still insist that this was done by the girl.”

“It wasn’t,” Reuben yelled loudly, silencing everyone. He cowered only slightly under the gaze of his superiors, and turned to look at Emrys, who had reached out for his arm. “I swear to you all that Emrys wasn’t the one who caused this.”

“There’s an easy way to determine this,” Malin suggested. “The girl would have to come back in for questioning. I doubt I’ve made a mistake, but if the girl truly isn’t guilty, then it won’t hurt for her to come back in. Maybe I’ll even learn more about her resistance to magic.”

Reuben turned toward Emrys and shook his head.

“Reuben,” said Emrys softly, pulling away from him. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

Morgana found herself protesting as well: “Malin, please reconsider. Surely there must be another way to prove Emrys’ innocence. We’ve already told you the truth.”

“And there is still truth to be found,” Malin replied, holding his hand out to Emrys.

“It’s alright, princess,” Emrys reassured her with a smile. “I have faith that my truth will be enough.”

Morgana doubted that, but couldn’t find the words to tell Emrys otherwise. How could she possibly tell Emrys she’d dreamt of her death? They’d both be brought in for questioning, and probably share the pyre.

“Come with me, now, girl,” Malin ordered.

Reuben put his hand on Emrys’ shoulder, keeping her from moving forward. “That won’t be necessary.”

Emrys glanced up at him in concern. “Reuben?”

Malin narrowed his eyes and said, “I grow tired of your constant impudence, boy. What must you say on her behalf now?”

“I’m the sorcerer you’re looking for. I killed Heior.”

“Reuben,” Emrys screamed. “What are you doing?”

“The boy is lying,” Silas said quickly.

“Why would he do such a thing,” Malin asked with a malicious smile.

“Because he’s in love with Emrys,” Arthur blurted out. With a nervous laugh, he added, “It’s obvious that the only magic happening here is the spell Emrys has placed over Reuben.”

Morgana looked away from Emrys and tried to reign in the dark envy that nipped at her heels. The truth about their relationship had been spoken and it had only confirmed Morgana’s worst fears. _No_ , Morgana realized as she took a deep breath and steeled herself against her feelings. She thought of her dream about Emrys and how that compared to learning Reuben was in love with her handmaiden. _Second-worst_.

“Reuben, look past your feelings and come to your senses. Emrys is innocent—a second questioning will prove that. There’s no need to resort to such lies.” When Reuben didn’t say anything, Arthur looked toward Uther and said, “Father, please. Reuben has been a faithful and loyal servant for years. He’s not a sorcerer.”

Malin turned to Uther as well. “He said it of his own will, sire. I must act on this and determine for myself whether it’s a lie or not.”

Uther held Reuben’s steady gaze for a moment and then moved his eyes to Silas. Morgana knew, without a doubt, that Uther was probably thinking of the relation between the two, and Silas’ magical history. To the guards behind him, he said, “Seize him; Silas, remove Heior’s body.”

With a defeated look on his face, Silas said, “Yes, sire.” Two of the guards helped him carry Heior out.

Malin’s thin smile stretched across his face. “Finally,” he muttered. “We’re to head to my chambers for questioning. I’ll return for the girl later.” He turned and followed Uther out the stables.

“No,” Emrys whispered, clutching Reuben’s arm with a firm grasp. She tightened her grip as the knights came closer. “No, please. You can’t take him! Reuben!”

Arthur stepped forward and grabbed Emrys by her shoulders, holding her back. Despite Emrys’ attempts to break free and her desperate pleas, Arthur firmly held her in place, keeping a steady, but sorrowful gaze on his manservant. It was the same look, Morgana realized, that he wore when an execution took place.

When Reuben and the guards had disappeared back into the castle, Emrys sank to her knees with a sob. Morgana felt like collapsing herself.

Guinevere put her hand on Morgana’s shoulder and tried to lead her away, but Morgana shook her head. “Morgana, you should rest now. It’s been a long day,” she insisted. “I would think it would be even longer tomorrow.”

“I can’t leave Emrys,” Morgana whispered back.

“I’ll handle this,” Arthur promised. He placed his hands on Emrys’ shoulders and tried to stand her up, but she leapt up on her own accord and swung her right fist at him. Though the quick movement had surprised Morgana, Arthur seemed more than prepared for the attack: he caught her hand and twisted it behind her back, drawing her close to him and rendering her helpless. “Stop,” he said calmly as she struggled against him. “I know you’re upset; I know you’re angry. I—”

“Really?” Emrys managed, hissing with pain. “You couldn’t possibly understand what I feel.” She shook her shoulders, attempting to throw him off balance, but it didn’t work. “Let go of me, Arthur Pendragon!”

“Not until you stop.”

“Are you going to arrest me too if I don’t?”

The question must’ve stunned Arthur, because his posture began to slack, and Emrys was able to break free. She spun around to face him, as he said, “No, I won’t do that.”

Morgana took a small step forward and watched her brother carefully. “Arthur, what are you planning to do?”

With a grim face, Arthur said, “Something princes shouldn’t do. I’m not going to watch a friend die. We’ll find a way to prove Reuben’s innocence.”

Emrys seemed to settle after hearing that. “What?”

“Isn’t that what you were going to do anyway?”

“Yes, but I didn’t expect any help.” Morgana was slightly hurt by this statement, but she recognized Emrys’ logic. Even though, as a maidservant, she was close to her mistress, Emrys probably assumed that she couldn’t count on the king’s own daughter to go against him. For a moment, Morgana wasn’t so sure if Emrys could count on her. “Why are you helping me?”

“I know I’ve given you both a hard time.” Arthur started, “but I do believe in the love the two of you are trying to build. It’d be tragic if it was torn apart by such violence.”

In spite of the situation, Emrys laughed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go along with this any longer. If you’re doing this to protect some kind of tragic story of young love, then you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

“What do you mean?”

Emrys looked around the room and, after assessing everyone, revealed the most astonishing information Morgana had ever heard: “You aren’t helping me rescue a lover; you’re helping me save my brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked Morgana's POV! Just like in the original show, the witch hunter is definitely here to cause some problems! I certainly hope no one thought I was talking about magic when I said there'd be a reveal in this chapter—that'll come later and I won't prepare you for it all. Don't forget to write a review and let me know what you think!


	9. A Man's Fate (Arthur)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur works hard to find evidence that might save Reuben from possible execution.

“Her brother,” Gwaine asked, almost dropping his sharpened sword in the process. “You can’t be serious.”

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “Silas just confirmed it. They’re all related.”

“Reuben _did_ mention once that he had a younger sister,” Lancelot mused. “But I thought he said she was still in his hometown.”

Percival grunted and spit on the ground beside him. “Apparently not anymore. I can’t believe we didn’t see it.”

“It makes sense, though, why Reuben watched over her so much.”

“And,” said Gwaine, tilting his sword toward the other knights, “why he was always such a stiff when someone talked about her.” He stared off into the distance and sat back. “I can’t believe Heior actually tried to—”

Arthur cleared his throat and raised a disapproving eyebrow at Gwaine, who silenced himself immediately. The prince wasn’t in any mood to talk or think about what might’ve happened if he’d been any later. “I need all of you to focus on the situation at hand. We have a small window of time to prove Reuben’s innocence. I don’t know how long it’ll take Malin to come to a conclusion, but I doubt it’ll be in our favor.”

He stopped suddenly as the door to the armory opened. Emrys hurried through without even bothering to close the doors back. As she came closer to him, Arthur realized how exhausted she looked. By his orders, she’d returned to her duties and put Morgana to bed, giving Arthur time to find his knights and inform them of the current events. She’d probably wasted little time in getting to Arthur, not even bothering to change into a new dress.

Through ragged breaths, Emrys managed to get out, “What’s the plan to save Reuben?”

He was almost afraid to tell her the truth, but he did it anyway: “There isn’t one yet.” Quickly, before the hope in her eyes could fade away, he added, “But we’ve got everyone on board and focused on the mission at hand. Won’t be long now before we come up with a solution.”

Despite hearing this, Emrys’ shoulders fell as she said, “I fear we won’t have much time.”

Arthur put his hands on her forehands and gripped them tightly, making her look up at him. There were dark circles starting to form underneath her eyes. She wouldn’t make it much longer without sleep and Arthur knew she wouldn’t sleep without her brother’s safety secured. “Don’t think like that.”

“How else am I supposed to think? My brother is a _servant_ , Arthur. If they come to a decision before we find a solution, his fate is set, and there’ll be no changing it.”

It sickened Arthur to think that Emrys was right. If Malin got Reuben to confess, Uther’s mind would never be changed. Arthur set his face determinedly and said, “I don’t know much about fate, but it seems to me that anyone should be allowed to change it.” Arthur began to blush when he heard one of the knights cough, but seeing Emrys encouraged made him forget about that. “No man should be denied his right to determine his own destiny. Not even a servant.”

 

~

 

Arthur could sense Emrys’ discomfort at being brought back into the stables, but she didn’t complain. She must’ve realized it was necessary to their investigation. As the knights spread out across the stables, Arthur heard Gwaine mumble, “Why are we starting in here?”

“This is where the incident started,” Arthur informed him.

“Are we supposed to recreate the scene then? Mind if I _don’t_ play Heior?”

Emrys glared at Gwaine and said, “I’m going to assume that you’re being glib in order to cope.”

He seemed unfazed by her glare as he walked over to her and pulled some hay out of her hair. Arthur watched on enviously as all of Emrys’ fierceness melted away. “You’d be right, moppet,” Gwaine admitted softly. “But if you think it’s Heior’s death I’m trying to come to terms with, you’re wrong.”

Emrys looked around at the other knights, seemingly shocked to see the same resolve on their faces. “You all feel this way.” It wasn’t a question.

Percival grunted as he nodded, drawing Emrys’ attention to him. “He may have been a knight, but Heior wasn’t a friend to any of us.”

“Agreed,” Lancelot said. “He was one of the oldest knights—put in the position by Uther himself. This isn’t the first time we’ve suspected something like this has happened, but it’s the first time he was so…careless about performing his activities. I’m glad an end has finally been put to it.”

Emrys glanced up at Arthur and he wondered if she wanted to know what he thought about the situation as well. Anger flared up within him at the thought of Heior trying to force a kiss from Emrys, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her that. Clearing his throat, Arthur said, “We should start looking for things that seem out of place.”

Arthur watched Emrys as she cautiously moved across the stables. The power that he normally felt from her seemed to have diminished a little, which he assumed was due in part to the horses as well as her sheer exhaustion from the day’s events.

Of all people, he couldn’t believe that his sister’s maidservant had been blessed with magical resistance. He really didn’t know much about fate, but he doubted it was merely a coincidence that this girl, born into peasantry, blessed with the power to repel magic, had found her way to the heart of Camelot, and had been assigned the role of his protectorate. He didn’t like to admit it, but maybe it really had been the work of destiny that had brought Emrys to his side.

“Sire,” said Percival suddenly, drawing Arthur away from his thoughts. “There’s ash in this corner of the stables.”

“Heior ran around after he was lit,” Arthur said dismissively.

“But this is far from the trail of burnt hay on the ground.”

Arthur turned and saw that Percival was right. His knight was standing in the back left corner of the stables, far from the scene. He bent down and picked up a singed strand of yellow thread.

“But that doesn’t make any sense, when the trail obviously leads in the other direction,” said Gwaine, making Arthur turn to look at him. “Was anyone over there?”

Arthur surveyed the room, taking into account the fact that Tristan was standing in the place Arthur’d been during the incident. Now that he thought about it, the others had unknowingly recreated the setup of the scene, with Gwaine standing where Heior had been. And, from his current position, Arthur realized he would’ve otherwise remained unnoticed.

“The sorcerer was standing here,” Arthur deduced. “He was watching us the whole time.”

Arthur tried to bring forth any details he might’ve missed before. When he’d pulled Reuben off of Heior, what’d happened next? All he could think about was the sight of Heior in flames; he willed himself to think of anything else.

“But if the sorcerer was there,” Lancelot said, “why’d he only attack Heior? Heior didn’t even travel to the woods with us. And why did he wait in the stables, of all places?”

“Because he knew we’d be there,” Arthur whispered. He didn’t know how, but somehow he knew that it was the truth.

“Why did Heior come all the way to the stables, anyway,” said Tristan.

Arthur’d assumed that Heior’d brought Emrys there because she’d be easily subdued with her fear of horses. However, thinking about it now, the stables were a long way from Malin’s chamber. “What was he thinking?”

“He was supposed to come to Malin’s chambers for basic questioning after me,” said Emrys, “but I think he drank too much and forgot the proper time.”

Something wasn’t adding up for Arthur. “Malin said Heior came with orders to bring you to the stables.”

Emrys shook her head, saying, “That came later. He showed up saying he thought he had an appointment, and when Malin told him otherwise, Heior said he’d rather wait with me.” She swallowed and looked away. “Among other things,” she added quietly.

Arthur found himself looking away from embarrassment as well. Quickly, he cleared his throat and asked, “Then what?”

“Malin gave him some wine and then Heior was saying that you’d called for me in the stables.”

“That’s it? He came, drank some wine, and then took you to the stables?” Arthur could feel the wheels turning in his head. “This doesn’t make any sense. What did Malin do beforehand, when he was questioning you?”

“He asked me if I had any ties to magic, if I had ever practiced it, ever dabbled in it, or if I had ever even once been associated with a sorcerer.”

 _Well_ , Arthur thought, _of course she does, if she’s truly related to Silas_. Everyone in the castle knew that Silas was a magic defector. Arthur wondered if Emrys’ relation to Silas would somehow explain her resistance to magic. He didn’t say anything about it, though, for fear that he’d reveal something about her uncle that she wasn’t already aware of. “It’s just that I thought he normally didn’t ask those questions unless he was certain he’d caught a sorcerer. That’s what he asked Oliver last time.”

“And what happened to Oliver,” Emrys asked quietly.

“The same thing that happens to all sorcerers who get caught in Camelot.”

“So what does that mean for me?”

“It means,” said Arthur, “that the sorcerer isn’t the only one targeting you, Emrys.”

 

~

 

Silas nodded as Arthur finished his tale. Looking at them with the information he knew now, Arthur could see how he hadn’t noticed that relation before. Silas’ skin was darker, a closer color to the wooden floorboards beneath them; Emrys’ hair was wilder, though he assumed that if Silas’ hair wasn’t grey it would’ve been the same color. Their only similarity was their eyes. They both looked at things as if they saw it for more than the way it appeared in the world.

Silas turned his eyes on Emrys, who was sitting beside him, and said, “I fear we have our work cut out for us, my dear. If Malin has truly set his sights on you, then we must proceed with caution. We must find a way to free Reuben without incriminating you.”

“And we still have to figure out who the sorcerer is,” Arthur said.

“I suggest you stay low, Emrys. We don’t need you drawing attention to yourself at this time.”

“I think it’s too late for that, Uncle,” Emrys said with a sad smile. “The king knows about me now. There’ll be no hiding; and even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. It’ll be better for everyone if I don’t shy away from this.”

There were times that Emrys surprised him with her wisdom. She was temperamental, rude, and a bit arrogant at times, but Arthur couldn’t deny that there were moments when he was actually impressed by her.

Their conversation ended when Lancelot rushed in. “Sire,” he said, after many huffs of breath. “Malin’s finished with Reuben.”

Emrys practically knocked Arthur to the ground in her attempt to get to the door first. However, with her torn dress, Arthur easily caught up with her. As they crossed the courtyard to the castle, the rising sun momentarily blinded Arthur, a reminder of how long they’d been up.

The thought occurred to him suddenly as they raced through the castle, that his father wouldn’t be particularly accepting of Emrys if she were to have one of her outbursts. It may, in fact, make matters worse for Reuben if Emrys couldn’t control her temper.

He reached out and spun her around by her shoulders as they came to a stop in front of the knights who guarded the main hall. “Emrys,” he said slowly when she looked up at him in confusion, trying to find the proper way to say what he was thinking without her getting angry. “I think it would be better if you hid in the servants’ exit during the trial.”

“What? But I can’t do that when my brother’s in danger, sire.”

“I know it’s hard to hear this, but I urge you to think about what Reuben needs right now: my father in a pleased mood. This is a very volatile time to be in the king’s presence. It’s early, he’s tired, and probably very confused at this moment. He doesn’t know what to think about Reuben, who’s been a loyal servant for years, or you, whom we’ve just discovered is resistant to magic. If the wrong thing is said or done, Malin will have his way.”

Emrys’ face scrunched up in a frown, and for a moment, Arthur thought she might continue to argue with him. But to his surprise, she let go of her opposition with a heavy sigh and nodded.

“Thank you,” he said, “for choosing the right thing.”

“I’m choosing to trust you, _sire_ ,” she replied. “I’m not sure that’s the right thing yet.” Without another word, Emrys did a quick bow of her head and headed off in the direction of the solar section.

Arthur hoped, with all of his heart, that he was right, that this would all go well. He was more nervous, he realized, than when he’d to make a speech. What he said or did now would determine the life of another and Arthur wasn’t sure he was ready to have all that weight on his shoulders just yet.

He felt a hand on his arm and turned to look at Silas, who was smiling at him. “I know she may seem a little flustered at the moment, but when this all works out, she’ll show her gratitude. Thank you, sire.”

With a deep breath and a swell of courage, Arthur nodded to the knights at the door and entered the great hall. The spectators had gathered on the sides, their heads respectfully bowed to hide their gossiping mouths. Reuben was on his knees before Uther, who was seated stiffly in his throne. Malin turned to look at Arthur, obviously annoyed, and Arthur wondered if he’d interrupted the witch hunter in some speech.

“I’d thought that everyone who desired to view this hearing was already present,” Malin snarled.

“Forgive me, Father,” Arthur said loudly, dismissing Malin’s statement. He strode across the room with his shoulders thrown back and his chin tilted up, trying to look as regal as he could. “I was investigating other matters.”

“You shouldn’t interrupt. Thanks to you, I’ve lost my train of thought. A sorcerer could go free because of you.”

“A sorcerer _will_ go free if we condemn an innocent man in his place.”

“Arthur, please,” said Uther sternly. “Take your place and show respect to Malin in this court. Malin, if you can, continue.”

It took all of Arthur’s might to bow his head at Malin and go stand beside his father. He kept his eyes on Reuben, hoping that his manservant wouldn’t give up hope. Reuben didn’t look too terrible, aside from obviously being in desperate need of sleep. He didn’t know what Malin had done during Reuben’s questioning, but it didn’t seem like any extreme measures had been taken.

Holding Arthur in his icy gaze, Malin announced loudly, “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, we must remain vigilant if we are to keep magic out of Camelot. There have been too many happenings that have remained unchecked, and now one of our own has been killed by it. Magic causes chaos; it has destroyed many kingdoms, and will not stop until Camelot has fallen.”

As the crowd began to murmur amongst them, Malin turned and extended his hand to Reuben. “I have determined this boy to be a sorcerer, the very one responsible for the fire that killed Heior.”

Arthur couldn’t help himself. He saw his chance to keep his promise to Emrys disappearing fast. In a moment of panic and desperation, he stood up and yelled, “This is ridiculous!” When Uther ordered him to be silent, Arthur said, “Father, please, listen to reason. This story doesn’t make any sense. Reuben’s been with us for ten years; I think I’d know if he had magic. On what grounds does Malin stand for this accusation?”

Malin smiled and went to stand behind Reuben, who lowered his gaze to the floor. “He confessed the truth of his sin to me.”

To his surprise, Arthur found himself saying, “Are you sure his confession was of his own will?”

The witch hunter pointed the end of his cane at Arthur, forcing the prince to stare down its length. “Are you questioning me, boy? My methods are infallible.”

Malin’s cane was made of dogwood, but the bottom of it had been charred. No doubt by Malin using it to stoke the fire in his room. Somehow that thought didn’t sit well with Arthur; he knew he was wrong. Keeping his eyes steady on the end of Malin’s cane, Arthur replied, “I am merely saying that I’ve personally witnessed your methods, and they tend to produce results, but not true answers.”

Malin squared his jaw and prodded Reuben in the back with his cane. “You want the truth? Fine. Tell them. Admit what you confessed to me.”

Reuben looked at no one. His eyes remained glued to the floor in the awful silence that followed. Then, finally, slowly, Reuben blinked and spoke: “I-I confess to it all. I am the sorcerer you’re looking for.”

Though Reuben’s voice had barely been above a whisper, it may as well have been shouted out to the entire court. Silas looked mortified and genuinely confused; the spectators were frightened; Uther had clenched his hands into fists; and Arthur could feel his own heart sinking.

Malin smiled and raised his voice to speak. “He confesses. So you are, in fact, the very sorcerer who killed Heior?”

“Yes.”

“And are you not also the sorcerer who created the curse that almost killed Morgana?”

“Yes.”

“He’s lying,” Arthur proclaimed. “I know he’s lying. Reuben himself was almost killed by that sickness. Why would a sorcerer endanger his own life?”

“I’ve seen many inexperienced sorcerers unintentionally injure themselves by performing spells outside of their mastery,” said Malin. “It is quite possible he accidentally infected himself after targeting the princess.”

“You targeted my daughter,” Uther asked, his voice immediately silencing the court.

In the moment that Reuben looked up to meet Uther’s glare, Arthur realized that Reuben truly was lying. Even when Reuben said that he had gone after Morgana, Arthur knew that what Reuben was saying in front of the court, in front of his father, was not true. And Arthur was going to figure out why.

“He admits it, sire,” Malin exclaimed. “We have a confirmed sorcerer in our grasp. We _must_ act!”

Uther remained silent for a while, before he turned to the rest of the court and proclaimed, “I find you guilty of witchcraft and sorcery and charge you with the highest account of treason against Camelot. You will be executed at dawn tomorrow.”

The courts’ whispers escalated as Reuben was seized and led out by the guards. Malin turned around with a smile of malice, but Arthur was not focused on the witch hunter’s gloating. Instead, his attention was drawn to the small opening in door to the servants’ entrance. He knew, before she even caught his eye, that Emrys was standing behind that door.

Without giving much thought to his father, Arthur made his way for the exit. He closed the door behind him, encasing them in the darkness of the staircase. He placed his hand over her mouth and shushed her before she could begin to yell at him. “I know, I know,” he whispered earnestly. He couldn’t see her eyes this time, but he hoped that she could still feel the resolve of his words. “Just shut up and follow me.”

He grabbed her wrist and headed down the stairs, counting the steps in his head until he would have to change directions. Every so often they passed by a window, which offered some light, and helped Arthur realize where he was going. When they came to a large, old, wooden door, Arthur dropped Emrys’ wrist.

“Why did you bring me to the dungeons,” Emrys asked.

Arthur pushed open the door and listened for other voices before turning around to tell Emrys, “To see your brother. Come on.”

Arthur had never been more grateful for the authority that came with his natural position than he was when he was able to command the guards to stand down and let him and Emrys pass. His anxiety and dread were immediately relieved when he saw Emrys and Reuben sink to their knees as they embraced each other.

“They wouldn’t let me see you while you were with Malin,” she told him. “Did he do anything to you?”

“I’m okay, Emrys,” Reuben assured her.

“How can you be? You’ve been sentenced to…” That was as far as she got before she burst into hysterical tears and buried her face in his chest. “This is all my fault. Malin’s after me, not you. Why did you say that you killed Heior?”

“It’s like you said—Malin is after you. I saw what he did last time.”

Arthur found himself stepping forward in disbelief. “You really did lie.”

“Why not just tell the truth,” Emrys asked. “You still have a chance to take this all back.”

Reuben shook his head. “I won’t do it, Emrys. I can’t.”

“You don’t _want_ to? Do you _want_ to die, then?”

“No, but die I will if it means Malin won’t come after you. You don’t know what he’s like, Emrys. Malin will manipulate and humiliate you until he has incriminated you.”

Arthur’s ears pricked suddenly. “What was your interrogation like, Reuben? What did Malin do?”

Reuben frowned, as if he were in deep thought. “He sat me down and asked me questions.”

“What questions?”

“For how long did I claim to be a sorcerer? What was my relationship with Emrys? Did I want anything to drink?”

“What? Malin offered you something to drink? I’ve heard him tell my father that he refuses his actual suspects food or drink until he’s done.”

“Well, he didn’t refuse me anything. As a matter of fact, he insisted and almost forced me to drink some wine.”

Emrys’ body snapped up. “Wine? Does Malin just offer everyone he questions wine? Is he some kind of drunkard?”

“Emrys,” Reuben hissed. Even in his current state, Arthur was amused to find that Reuben still valued proper etiquette.

“No,” said Arthur. “Malin doesn’t...drink.” His nose scrunched up in a frown. “Malin doesn’t drink. He has no need for wine. And it seems like every time he gives someone a drink, something happens to them.”

“What are you saying, sire?”

“People do things out of character after drinking his wine. Heior…” Arthur found himself blushing and cleared his throat instead. “Well, we know what Heior did.”

A dark shadow passed over Reuben’s face. “That’s not too far out of Heior’s character, sire.”

“But it is. Heior has always waited to do his deeds in the dark. Heior would never risk such an act when the castle was still awake.” Arthur’s heart began to pound as he thought back to all the clues from earlier. “And you can’t lie, Reuben. I’ve known you for ten years—you’re horrible at it. You would never lie to my father’s face like that.”

Reuben looked away as if he was embarrassed and Arthur caught sight of a strand of golden thread resting on top of his shoulder. “You’re right, but I still don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

Not too long ago, Arthur had overheard Silas and his father discuss the power of sorcerers over the mind. It was possible for sorcerers like Noren to control the minds of others with nothing other than spells, but sometimes certain spells were made more powerful by attaching them to another object...like wine.

“Malin has magic.” 


	10. Wine of Fire (Arthur)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his new revelation, Arthur makes plans to save Reuben once and for all from the threat of the witch hunter.

Saying it out loud seemed almost silly to Arthur, but something in his gut told him he’d spoken the truth. Staring into the bewildered faces of Emrys and Reuben, Arthur said even more confidently, “Malin is the sorcerer.”

“The plague sorcerer,” Reuben gasped.

“I’m not sure the two cases are related. At least I don’t know, but I know that he’s the sorcerer we’re looking for now.”

“You think Malin killed Heior?”

“Heior was killed by a fire that was summoned with magic. There was a burnt circle of hay in the far corner where we think the sorcerer must have been standing. Malin’s cane is charred at the bottom, and we found a similar golden thread there as the one resting on your clothes.”

Emrys stood up and turned to look at Arthur. “But you really think Malin has magic? Not that I don’t trust your judgment, Arthur, but that’s a serious accusation with little proof. I fear we wouldn’t be able to prove it.”

“ _You_ are my proof, Emrys.” To her confused look, he said, “Everyone with magic so far has had what seems to be an immediate and intense obsession with you, Emrys, and now I know that it’s because they know you can’t be affected by them. If we’re going to prove that Malin is truly the sorcerer, we’re going to need you.”

“As evidence?”

Arthur shook his head. “More like bait.”

 

~

 

“No,” Morgana said sternly. She glared at her brother through his reflection in the mirror. “Absolutely not, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed in exasperation and glanced up at the ceiling. “Morgana, it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

“No, Arthur, you’re right. It’s actually _worse_. I will not allow you to use Emrys as bait for that monster. I don’t want her anywhere near him.”

“Technically she won’t be near _him_.” In a quieter voice, he said, “She’s to try to search his chambers.”

“Yes,” said Guinevere with a cruel laugh, “but for Emrys to do that would essentially be to incriminate herself—whether she’s guilty or not. You know Malin doesn’t care either way. You should’ve thought about that and have thought to ask for Morgana’s opinion on the fate of her handmaiden before acting.”

“Perhaps _you_ should’ve thought about _my_ opinion, then, when it came to Reuben. It wouldn’t have had to come to this if you hadn’t gone to that snake.”

“Enough, Arthur. Leave her alone,” Morgana ordered. “There’s no way any of us could’ve known what would have come of this. Guinevere was only trying to do the right thing.”

“The right thing,” Arthur scoffed.

“Arthur!”

“I’m sorry, Morgana, but the ‘right thing’ might just cost an innocent man his life. How many lives have we already seen destroyed by people who have tried to do the ‘right thing’? How many more lives have to be lost before we do something to change it?”

“We can’t go against our father, Arthur.”

“I know that! You don’t think I know that? But I’m not going against our father right now; I’m going against Malin. He’s our enemy here and we have the power to beat him.”

“But it’s not _you_ who’s using their power to beat him, is it, Arthur? You’re using Emrys, and I know it’s because he can’t affect her. Hiding behind someone else’s power doesn’t make you brave and it doesn’t make your cause righteous.”

As much as he wanted to argue, Arthur found that he couldn’t. No matter how he looked at it, he realized Morgana was right. He was hiding behind Emrys. Despite the fact that Emrys was willing to go against Malin, Arthur realized he’d volunteered her life with his plan. Suddenly he didn’t feel as confident as before.

“I’m not saying that what you’re doing isn’t a good thing,” Morgana continued, “but there’s got to be a better way to save Reuben without risking his sister’s life in the process.”

Arthur suddenly realized there was an increasing pain in his abdomen. These days, he seemed to get these much more often, and for whatever reason, he always thought of Emrys when he had them. He resisted the urge to double over and forced himself to stand straighter. “Emrys,” he managed to get out.

“What?”

Stronger this time, he said, “We need to get to Emrys immediately.”

He could see the color leave Morgana’s face. “Please don’t tell me she’s in his chambers right now.”

“Why do you think I came to talk to you? I had to keep you occupied while she went to find any evidence.”

Morgana stood up and raced out of the room, yelling, “Arthur!”

“You can scold me later, Morgana,” Arthur said as he and Guinevere caught up to her. He realized as they ran that this was the second time in as many days that they’d gone racing across the castle in search of Emrys.

Even without the threat of losing such a powerful gift, Arthur found that he was genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. It was not smart of him to use her in this way. There was the chance that his plan would not work and he would lose both Emrys and Reuben to this monster.

The trio came to an abrupt stop as they rounded the corner and faced Malin, who was limping toward them from the opposite end of the hall. Arthur found it hard not to blurt out the information he’d recently discovered, but he held his tongue for fear of ruining the chance to obtain their greater goal.

In the end, it was Morgana who recovered the quickest. “Malin, good afternoon,” she said casually. Arthur saw her straighten her back in the subtlest and quickest of movements, a motion they’d both been taught as a simple way of exerting their authority over another.

“Yes, good afternoon, princess,” he said tautly. “I’m afraid I’m not up for any conversation, if that’s what you came for. I find myself rather worn out from today’s events.”

Arthur didn’t know how Morgana could manage such a perfectly masked smile. “Understandably, but I’m positive I won’t take up too much of your time, Malin.” Her smile faltered for a moment and Arthur was sure she’d heard the small clinking of objects behind the door as well.

Arthur glanced at Malin, whose face was scrunched in confusion. He needed some kind of distraction and he was certain his normal trick wouldn’t work at this moment. Without a shadow of a doubt, Arthur knew that Emrys was behind those doors.

As Malin began to walk forward again, Arthur blocked his path to the door and loudly stated, “Malin, I do hope you will…forgive my actions this morning.”

Malin stopped and leaned on his cane with both hands, smiling maliciously. “Am I to understand it, Arthur, that you’re formally apologizing to me?”

The apology rose up in Arthur’s mouth with a taste as foul as bile, but it seemed to be working. For just a moment, Malin had stopped, and maybe that would give Emrys some time to hide. Swallowing his pride a second time, Arthur nodded and said, “Yes. Please believe that I meant no disrespect. I’ve known Reuben for years and I…wasn’t prepared for such a revelation.”

Malin waved his hand through the air dismissively. “I understand. I know that you must be frustrated with yourself for not realizing it sooner, what with the sorcerer being so close to you this entire time. I’m glad you’ve come to terms with your oversight and that you’ve chosen to own up to your mistake like a man.”

Arthur ground his teeth together and opted to smile instead of replying.

“Is that all? I really am quite tired, and I feel as if I need my rest before anything more exciting happens.”

“Yes, Malin,” said Morgana quickly as another sound came from the door. “I didn’t know Arthur was going to apologize to you, but I wanted to talk to you about your dining plans for this evening.”

Again, Malin stopped, seemingly interested in the idea. “Oh?”

“I realized that, in all the…excitement of the events of the past few days, we haven’t properly acknowledged your arrival in Camelot.”

“I’m not certain that’s the best idea right now, princess,” said Guinevere quietly. Arthur found himself wishing that Guinevere had opted not to come along, even though he knew that it was her duty to be by Morgana’s side.

Malin nodded and said, “I think I may agree with your lady-in-waiting, princess. Perhaps some time afterwards.”

Morgana tossed a quick glance toward Guinevere before she continued: “On the contrary, I believe now is the perfect time for such an event. The castle has, needless to say, been chaotic recently, and news is bound to reach the rest of the population soon.”

“That is if it hasn’t already,” Arthur added. “A sorcerer found within the castle would be quite the scandal. The people would surely become restless if they knew such a thing.”

“Yes, Arthur, exactly,” said Morgana with a smile. “I think it would be best if we gave them an example of our strength at this time.”

Malin nodded again, but this time he seemed to be buying it. “You may be right, princess. The last thing we need in the fight against magic is chaos. It enables sorcerers to slip into the minds of the weak and makes them harder to weed out. What did you have in mind?”

“I think nothing demonstrates strength and security more than a banquet. We need to show the people that we haven’t been affected in the castle and I think a large feast would be perfect. We can deflect the attention away from sorcerers and focus on your arrival instead.”

“Yes,” Malin mused. “That sounds quite perfect. I accept your invitation tonight, princess.” He paused for a moment, seemingly considering something. “It’d be better if I resumed my work. Princess, would you happen to be aware of your handmaiden’s whereabouts? I see that she’s not with you now.”

And with that, Arthur’s heart began to sink again. Morgana glanced at Arthur quickly and said, “I’m afraid not. I haven’t seen Emrys since yesterday’s events.”

“Ah, well, perhaps your lady-in-waiting?”

Guinevere swallowed, but otherwise kept her face composed. “No,” she said slowly, though Arthur could hear her hesitation. Then, more confidently and almost bitterly, she said, “I’ve had to accommodate for all of Emrys’ duties in her absence today. If I’d seen her earlier, I would’ve seen to it that she came to work.”

“Hmm,” said Malin. “Perhaps she is grieving with her uncle. I’m not sure if you all were aware of this, but the serving boy used magic to protect the girl because they’re related.”

Arthur didn’t know how to fake his surprise without obviously coming off as insincere, but Malin didn’t seem to notice, so it didn’t seem to matter. “I didn’t know that,” he said as innocently as he could possibly sound.

“They’re siblings, in fact. The boy willingly divulged this information the moment I began to question his motives. I was quite interested to learn that they had chosen to keep their relation a secret.”

“Forgive me for asking, Malin,” said Arthur slowly, “but I’m not sure what this new information has to do with your search for Emrys.”

“The girl claims to be impervious to magic. I’ve never seen such a trait and I’ve reason to believe that her family would lie in order to save her life. I believe that further investigation will reveal the truth behind the nature of her powers—or I should say ‘abilities’ as Silas has so carefully described them. That is, of course, assuming that they’re real.”

Arthur jumped at the sudden crash behind Malin’s door. There would be no avoiding what was to come next—Malin had definitely heard it as well. Arthur held his hand out to stop Malin, who frowned and yelled, “Out of my way, boy! There is someone in my chambers.”

“Exactly,” said Arthur. “Which means you shouldn’t enter your room first. If there’s someone in there, they were waiting for you. For your own safety, you should stay back, please.” With a deep breath and a miserable look toward Morgana, Arthur put his hand on Malin’s doors and opened them.

Knowing that it was Emrys he’d face inside, Arthur didn’t reach for his sword. He didn’t see her at first glance, which told him she’d had the sense to hide after making such a noise. As he searched the room Arthur couldn’t decide if he was relieved that he hadn’t found Emrys yet or worried about where he would find her.

“I know I heard something,” Arthur heard Malin mumble as he joined in the search. He subtly increased his pace so that the witch hunter wouldn’t pass him. He was grateful when Malin stopped to investigate the source of the noise—Emrys had knocked over a chair by an open window.

“They must’ve jumped,” Malin concluded as he peeked out the window.

Arthur shook his head, but didn’t speak up. He’d be able to see them down there. No one could survive a fall from this height without breaking something and Arthur doubted they’d get far with that type of injury. He hoped that Emrys hadn’t been dumb enough to try it.

Guinevere coughed, drawing his attention. She was standing by the bed, examining the door that led to the inner chamber. “If someone were in here, I don’t think they’d risk their life by throwing themselves out the window.”

“Not unless they’d something to hide,” said Malin.

“Or they’re hiding themselves,” she countered, nodding toward the door behind her. “Was this closed before?”

Arthur could feel himself pale. It took all his efforts not to run before Malin as the witch hunter stormed through the door, raging the entire time. He started to go after Malin anyway until he saw Guinevere bend down and reach her hands underneath the bed. With a small grunt of effort, she pulled Emrys, who had a slight covering of dust on her, out from under the bed.

Arthur’s mouth fell open at the sight of the dirty serving girl and he found himself instinctively opening out his arms to her.

She didn’t make any noises and instead dove back under the bed for a moment to grab an old bottle. Without missing a beat, Emrys rolled onto her feet, holding her skirts and the bottle to her chest, and ran…right past Arthur to the door, into the folds of Morgana’s arms instead.

As he watched the two girls disappear around the corner, Arthur couldn’t help but feel irritated. If she’d known the worried state he’d been in for her safety, she wouldn’t have ignored him. His arms dropped with a disapproving clap at his sides.

Almost immediately afterwards, Malin returned from the inner chamber.

“I didn’t see anyone in there,” he fumed, “but there has to have been _someone_ in this room. I didn’t imagine this noise.”

“No, certainly not,” said Guinevere as she smoothed the ends of her dress. Malin didn’t seem to notice or suspect anything of the action. “I heard a noise as well. We all did. And we see the mess.”

“I’m quite certain whoever was in here must’ve thrown themselves from the window. It’s the only possible explanation.” He rushed back over to the window to look out again.

This time Guinevere joined him. “You know, I believe you’re right.” She stopped suddenly and narrowed her eyes at something below them. “There! Right there! Don’t you see the slight difference in shape in the bushes? Someone _definitely_ jumped from this window and landed there.”

“I knew it,” said Malin with a sneer. “I will begin an investigation. You all will forgive me, but I must act immediately.”

Arthur hadn’t realized when Morgana had entered the room again, but suddenly, there she was, saying, “We completely understand. Arthur, you’re to inform our father immediately. Malin, I’m sure the king will send guards to assist you, should the situation develop.”

“Yes, yes.” He ushered them out of his room, locked the door, and hurried down the hall.

Without taking her eyes off of the end of the corridor, Morgana raised her voice and said, “Emrys, it’s safe to come out now.”

Arthur turned toward the opposite end of the hall just as Emrys rounded the corner. He started toward her, but was beaten to the serving girl by his sister. Emrys used one hand to hug Morgana back, but her eyes stayed fixated on Arthur.

Her gaze was so intense that he became embarrassed and had to force himself to look away, catching Guinevere’s eyes instead. She lifted her chin and shifted her gaze to Emrys as the serving girl approached her.

Arthur expected Emrys to say something witty, and was surprised when she opened her mouth and said, “Thank you for not turning me in.”

If she hadn’t lost her composure for a moment, Arthur wouldn’t have known that Guinevere was shocked too. In an instant, her raised eyebrows relaxed again, and her mouth settled into a firm line. “It’s nothing worth mentioning. We were there to stop you from allowing Arthur to convince you to do something foolish.”

For once, Emrys’ bright eyes seemed very dark. “I would do _anything_ for my brother. Nothing’s too foolish to attempt. Besides, I have the one thing that makes it all worth it.” She held up the old bottle for them all to see.

“Emrys,” Morgana whispered. “What is that?”

Together, Arthur and Emrys said, “Malin’s wine.” The two locked eyes, and Arthur thought that, just for a moment, they might be feeling the same thing—an amalgamation of excitement, anxiety, and overwhelming joy.

“I hope you have a plan,” Emrys said.

Arthur took the bottle from her with a smile and said, “Let’s get to work.”

 

~

 

Arthur swallowed a piece of chicken as Uther asked, “Was your investigation successful, Malin?”

“No,” Malin growled. “We found no trace of the intruder. And what’s worse, I didn’t have time to continue the work I’d already started.”

“A shame,” Uther muttered. “It truly is. I’m confident, though, that your work won’t suffer from the delay. The results that you’ve been able to produce in the short amount of time that you’ve been here is quite impressive.”

“Yes, I suppose.” Malin rose suddenly as Emrys came through the servants’ door, carrying a jug of wine.

Arthur forced himself to remain calm, fighting his suddenly desperate urge to take Emrys and run far away from this man. He noticed Emrys’ slight misstep, the only indication that she, too, was nervous.

“I see your handmaiden’s decided to stop hiding from me, Morgana,” said Malin as he slowly lowered himself back into his seat. His eyes didn’t move from Emrys as she circled the long table, filling up everyone’s cup with wine. He raised his hand to stop her as she started to pour wine into his goblet.

Morgana remained as calm as ever: “Emrys was making up for all of the chores she’d gotten behind on in the past events.”

Arthur found that he truly envied his sister’s remarkable skill in maintaining her composure. He was certain that, with a quick glance his way, Malin would discover their ruse.

“Yes,” said Emrys in a meek voice as she slipped into a quick curtsey. “My humblest apologies for my absence, princess.”

“I wish you’d extend the same courtesy to me, Emrys,” Guinevere muttered. She took a simple sip from her cup, but eyed Emrys above the rim as the serving girl hurried from the room, claiming that she needed to refill the jug.

Uther waved a dismissive hand. “Let the matter go. If Morgana is offended, she will see to the proper punishment. Malin, if you would, I’d like to hear more about your discoveries.”

“Well,” said Malin, eyeing the spot from where Emrys had disappeared, “if we’re on the subject of proper punishment—“

“Father,” cried Arthur suddenly, a little too loudly. “Forgive me for my interruption, but I believe before we hear this tale, Malin deserves to be properly honored. We speak of formalities, but we’ve yet to fulfill our most basic task during a celebrative feast—commencing in a toast.”

Uther nodded and rose from his seat. “You’re correct, my son. Malin, please join us in a quick toast in your honor.”

Malin frowned. “That’s hardly necessary. I will be honored when I see the proper destruction of an evil sorcerer.”

“Nonsense, old friend. You must join us.”

“I’ll make it quick,” Arthur promised.

Emrys entered the room again and hurried to Malin’s side when she realized they were rising to a toast. When Malin refused her service again, Uther said, “Please, Malin, I insist you partake in this toast with us. I know your qualms about the effects of wine, but a taste will not affect you.”

Malin’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing against the king. Emrys filled the bottom rung and stepped to the side, her eyes steadily holding Arthur’s, who cleared his throat and began his toast: “To my father, the king, and to his honored guest, Malin, whom, without, Camelot would surely fall.”

“To Malin,” the others repeated, drinking from the cups.

“To the future of Camelot,” said Malin. “May it one day be rid of the hold magic has on it.” With a sour expression, Malin downed the contents of his goblet.

Uther pulled himself back up to the table. “Now, Malin, let’s hear that story.”

Arthur shoved food into his mouth to keep from smiling. So much food, in fact, that he began to cough, drawing attention. Emrys was immediately at his side, refilling his cup for him to drink from, but he didn’t take it. “Water,” he ordered, among the coughs.

She nodded and set the jug of wine down on the table before running to a table on the far side of the room and grabbing a carafe of water. She poured him water and asked, “Is everything alright, Your Highness?”

The water soothed his cough, and he set the cup down. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but realized Malin was staring at him with wide, horrified eyes. “Malin?”

The witch hunter didn’t seem to hear him, for he began to raise his hands and scream. It was then that Arthur realized Malin was not looking at him but _past_ him. Arthur turned to see what was there but found nothing.

“Malin, are you alright,” asked Uther.

Still, Malin didn’t hear. “No! Not you! You’re dead. You’re dead! I made sure you were dead!” He stumbled on his way out of his seat and fell to the floor, all the while kicking his way backwards. “You can’t be alive!”

Emrys stepped forward. “Malin, are you all right?”

He heard her. With fierce eyes, Malin turned on Emrys and stood up, yelling, “This is _your_ doing, isn’t it, girl? I know it’s you! This is your way of exacting punishment, isn’t it? All for that bumbling fool of a brother of yours!” With surprising speed, he closed the distance between them and grabbed Emrys by the arms, shaking her.

“My lord, please,” Emrys pleaded as she tried to wiggle out of his grip.

“You think your little tricks can save you or your brother? You’ve no idea who you’re dealing with, _witch_.” He dropped one arm and swiped the back of his hand across her face, sending Emrys and the carafe she had carried to the ground.

This time Arthur couldn’t keep himself from standing up. He barely noticed the others, who were yelling as well. The only thing he could think about in that moment was Emrys. He ran to her and screamed the witch hunter’s name, but Malin didn’t stop advancing.

The witch hunter picked up the carafe and tossed it over his shoulder, steadily making his way toward the pair. “Malin, stop. This has gone far enough!” He helped Emrys sit up and winced when she spat blood from her mouth.

Uther must have called for the knights at one point, because six of them had made their way into the room. They surrounded Malin, swords raised, awaiting their orders. But Uther wasn’t ordering them to strike; he was still trying to get through to Malin.

Malin took note of the guards, but didn’t seem worried. “What’s this? More fools you have under your little spells? No matter. They are no match for me. _You_ are no match for me. You won’t get out of here alive. I’ll see to it that you and your family all go out the same way—in _flames_! _Tanau_!”

Malin’s eyes glowed a dark red, and in an instant, his right hand had caught on fire. The sight silenced everyone, including Arthur. Arthur was suddenly reminded of Noren, and began to feel sick.

“A pity this execution won’t be more public,” Malin said with a grin. “But it’s no matter—this is almost as satisfying.” He extended his hand toward Emrys and Arthur, sending a ball of flames their way.

Arthur didn’t have much time to react. He had a strong desire to push Emrys out of harm’s way, but found that he was too shocked to move. He’d known that Malin must be a sorcerer, but the revelation was almost too overwhelming. He resigned himself to the death.

He vaguely registered a shadow passing over him, and hands pulling his head down underneath a soft cover, forcing him to his knees. Heat washed over him, but it didn’t burn him. In fact, he strangely felt cool. In that instant, he remembered himself and looked up to see Emrys, surrounded by a faint white light, with the dying embers of Malin’s fire scattering away from her before finally fading.

Malin let out a primal roar, screaming, “No! What power do you possess that protects you so?” He advanced and grabbed her by the shoulders again, pulling her face very close to his own. “Make no mistake, girl. My magic may not affect you, but there are other ways. You think not having magic protects you from me? I’ve made hundreds of people confess before you and I will make hundreds after you!”

This time, Arthur found he was in control. He stood and shoved Malin to the floor, jarring the witch hunter from his fantasy. In the next moment, Arthur pulled Emrys behind him, never taking his eyes away from Malin, who sat up and looked around with large eyes.

“Ah,” cried Malin as he found Uther, “sire, I’ve just made a new discovery. The serving girl has magic—dangerous magic. She made an attempt on my life by conjuring the dead knight. She must be executed _immediately_.”

Uther shied away from Malin as the knights grabbed the witch hunter. “I’ve seen the truth. I know the real sorcerer now. It is _you_ , Malin.”

Malin seemed confused for a moment. “What? No, sire. You’re mistaken. You know I’m not a sorcerer. It’s the serving girl. It’s Emrys.”

“Kill him,” Uther ordered.

“What?” The knights let go of him and drew their swords. “She has you all under her spell. Do you not see that?” When it was clear that the knights wouldn’t stop, Malin yelled, “ _Tanau_!” Once again, his hand caught fire, but the knights were prepared this time.

They swung at the witch hunter, who managed to jump back in time to avoid being struck. His fire began to dim, and he screamed his command again as he continued to walk backwards. With the new order, the fire immediately began to grow, extending its reach to engulf his entire arm.

Malin began to scream and waved his arm through the air to extinguish the fire. Arthur felt Emrys clench her fingers around his own arms, her view from behind him obviously in line with the horror in front of them.

Now stumbling backwards, Arthur realized Malin was coming to the far side of the room, where large glass windows lined the walls. Also in the witch hunter’s path was the carafe he’d thrown earlier. “Malin,” Arthur cried out, despite himself, in an effort to warn the man.

But Malin didn’t hear him. With the fire spreading further down his arm, he quickened his backwards pedal and tripped over the carafe. The force and speed at which he fell pushed him through the stained window behind him.

Arthur and Uther hurried to the window, with Malin screaming all the while. Father and son reached the broken window in time to see the flaming witch hunter crash into the cobbled road below. Arthur had seen death many times before, but this was the only one he found he was relieved about.

Malin had been right: a witch had burned.

 

~

 

Arthur sat with Emrys and Silas on their bench as they all awaited Reuben’s return. After Malin’s death, Uther had sent guards to clean up, and ordered Reuben’s immediate release. “I see no reason for that boy to continue wasting away in our dungeons,” Uther had said.

A tearful Morgana had insisted they all wait in Silas’ chambers and remove themselves from the tense atmosphere in the dining hall. Now she stood behind Emrys, her right hand resting on her maidservant’s shoulder, and her gaze never wavering. Even Guinevere stood behind Emrys for support.

While they waited, Silas fussed over Emrys’ face: “I wish you’d heeded my advice and stayed away from that man, Emrys.” He dabbed at the light bruise on her left cheek with a damp cloth.

Emrys winced, but never took her eyes off of the door. “I’m fine, Silas. No need to get upset. It’s over now.”

“Not quite,” Arthur whispered. There was one thing that had yet to be rectified.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Reuben stepped inside. Arthur felt an overwhelming sense of relief as he watched his manservant embrace Emrys. He’d barely had enough time to open his arms before she’d thrown herself onto him. It was when Silas joined the pair in a group hug that the three all sank to their knees with joyful tears.

“Oh, my children,” Silas breathed. “Thank the gods you’re both safe.”

Arthur realized suddenly that his own eyes felt heavy with tears of their own. He sniffed and diverted his attention quickly to regain himself. Only when Morgana put her hand on his shoulder a few moments later did he turn back again.

“We should go,” she mouthed. Guinevere was already at the door, her face unreadable.

“Yes,” Arthur agreed, shaking off the rest of his emotions. Emrys and her family had broken apart by then, wiping away the last of their tears. Arthur clapped his hand down on Reuben’s shoulder and said, “I’m relieved you’re safe. And your family’s quite astonishing.”

Reuben smiled. “Thank you, sire. They truly are.”

“Right. Well, see to it that you get some rest. I can’t be without a manservant forever.” With a half-chuckle, Arthur followed Morgana and Guinevere from the room.

The two were a significant distance away from him, their heads bent and voices lowered. He knew this action well—the two had done it all the time when they were younger. It was their way of attempting to keep a secret from him. “What could you two possibly be gossiping about right now?”

Morgana continued to face forward, but Arthur noticed how tense his sister’s shoulders were. “Don’t you worry about it, Arthur. It’s nothing.”

Arthur wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard Guinevere mutter something about the matter _hardly_ being nothing. He started to ask them about it further, but as they got to the end of the corridor, Arthur was stopped by the sound of his name: “Arthur!”

He knew that it was Emrys calling his name, and he looked back at his sister, who quickened her pace. “You aren’t staying,” he asked, confused.

Guinevere shook her head as she followed Morgana further away. “It’s been a long day, Arthur. She should retire.”

“Besides,” said Morgana, almost too quiet for him to hear, “it’s you she wants.”

There was something harsh about the way Morgana had spoken to him, but Arthur didn’t have time to think about that. He turned and saw Emrys as she came to a halt in the middle of the steps. “Emrys? What’re you doing out here? You should be back inside with your family. It’s been a hard day.”

“I know,” she huffed, taking a moment to catch her breath. “I can’t stop thinking about today.” She breathed in deeply and then caught his eyes. “I realized again that, perhaps, I should thank you. I’m eternally grateful for the large part you played in ensuring my brother’s safety.”

Arthur smiled at her. “I was largely inspired by your own courage and determination, Emrys. You have a remarkable knack for seeing through things until justice is done—I admire that.”

Arthur normally struggled to find the right words to say, but around Emrys, he found it surprisingly easy to speak around her. “And there’s no need to thank me. As I’ve said many times before, it was you who saved my life first.”

She laughed, though her smile didn’t entirely reach her eyes. “Seems like we’re destined to be in this infinite cycle of saving each other.”

In the moments of silence that followed, Arthur took a moment to admire her. Her hair was completely out of place and her eyes were swollen and red from her tears, but she stood above him as if neither of these things bothered her in the least. The strength she still managed to exhibit was awe-inspiring. His smile fell as he realized the light of her candle had also succeeded in illuminating the bruise on her face.

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about the danger he’d put her in. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just…” She shook her head and left her voice trail off. “Never mind. I don’t know what I’m saying. Have a good night, sire.”

He ran back up and grabbed her free hand as she started to turn around. “Emrys,” he said, his voice a soft whisper. “What is it? Are you okay, really?”

She left her hand in his, but she didn’t look at him. “I shouldn’t bother you with this.”

“Emrys, please.” He advanced a few steps to put them at eye level. Surprising himself, Arthur reached up with his right hand and turned her head with two fingers underneath her chin. He brushed aside a strand of flyaway hair, gingerly touching the side of her face. He lingered by her bruise.

She noticed his hesitation. Emrys gave him a faint smile and said, “I’m fine. The bruise will go away soon.”

“That isn’t what’s bothering you, though, is it?”

Emrys was silent for many moments. Finally, she said, “I can still feel them.”

“Feel them?”

“Malin, Noren, Heior, the plague sorcerer,” she explained. “It’s like I can still feel their presence. Things keep happening, one after the other, and I barely have time to calm down from one thing before I get pulled into something else.”

He pulled her into a tight hug, careful not to burn his arm on the candle. He couldn’t find the words to explain how sorry he was for all of the danger he’d put her in. Instead, he folded over her and deepened the hug. She stood stiffly against him before finally sighing into relaxation. With a shift of her arm, her closed fist was behind his neck, holding him close to her. Arthur found that he was also letting go of a breath that he’d been holding. Reuben had been right—Emrys was not nearly as brash as she pretended to be.

He could feel her heartbeat hammering against him. After a moment’s consideration, he thought that maybe the thundering he felt was of his own heart instead. _No_ , he thought as she released a shaky breath, _it’s definitely hers_. It was strange how strong she’d seemed moments before and yet how fragile she was right now.

He couldn’t help but think of his first hunt, and the rabbit that had evaded him for the majority of the time. When he’d finally caught it, its heart had beat so quickly and its body had trembled so much, that Arthur found he couldn’t bear to hurt it further. He’d let it go and told his father the rabbit had simply been too quick for him.

Arthur felt Emrys’ flat hand sliding down his chest as she began to pull away slightly. He loosened his grip on her; she wriggled out far enough so that she could look at him. The flame of her candle danced around in her brown eyes, enticing him as he began to lean forward. She tipped her head up and her full lips parted expectantly.

Emrys’ eyes bore into him, as if she could see his inmost being, and he didn’t doubt that she could. And yet, what did he know about her, this girl who was so close to him in this moment and yet still so distant? She’d surprised him more than once today and he knew it wouldn’t be the last time.

It hurt to think that he’d never be as surprising for her. His father demanded calculation from Arthur, because everything Arthur did could possibly come at the expense of another, and “the future king” had to take responsibility for that.

She often annoyed him, but Arthur was envious of Emrys’ freedom to be as impulsive or calculated as she liked, without the threat of consequence. As crown prince, he could never hope to know such freedom.

Arthur quickly stepped away from her when he became aware of how close their foreheads were to each other. She must’ve been uncomfortable too, because she cleared her throat before continuing: “I’m sorry. Please excuse my moment of weakness. That’s not how I wanted this conversation to go. I wanted to tell you that I want to end this.”

“This?” Had everything been too much for her? Was she going to leave him—leave the castle now?

She nodded. “Malin was right about one thing: Camelot should be free of the tyranny of evil men who abuse their power. I know what I said about things calming down, but…the plague sorcerer—I want to stop him. And it’s probably going to require my presence.”

“As my guard?”

Emrys straightened, and suddenly, she was back to her normal self. She flashed him a mischievous smile. “More like bait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As most of you have noticed, I've been combining some of the canon characters/episodes with my own ideas—and that's going to continue! In the next chapter, you'll get the chance to see our dynamic duo take on the "plague sorcerer," meet a new character, and face...love issues?! Not to mention, get ready to see Baelfire again! As always, please don't forget to write a review! Until then, stay magical, my lovelies!


	11. Kiss of Conduct (Emrys)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emrys reconnects with Baelfire and Faolán once more.

Emrys heard Baelfire’s voice before she had finished materializing: “Well, you’ve certainly been busy these past few days, Emrys. ” He’d been sitting at the base of the Great Tree of Avalon, but rose as her features in the dream world began to solidify. The wicked smile that spread across his face did nothing to affect his looks. To Emrys’ ire, he almost looked even more handsome.

“If you know that, you’ll also know that I haven’t gotten much sleep either. So please tell me you’ve a good reason for interrupting my first chance at real rest. Might I also add how grateful I am that you decided to refrain from helping me these past few days?”

He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by her attitude. “It would seem you handled the situation quite well without my assistance,” he said with a simple shrug.

Emrys clenched her fists and suddenly a circle of fire appeared around Baelfire. He didn’t flinch; he only stared at her. The dark silver in his eyes held an intensity that words couldn’t match, but Emrys didn’t drop her gaze.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Baelfire said, “I see. Small matters such as this mean very little to me, if anything. That is clearly not the case for you. My apologies.”

She put out the fire and lowered her hand, but not her eyes. “I don’t appreciate your insouciant attitude toward these things. There was nothing _small_ about this matter. My brother’s life isn’t insignificant.”

Baelfire chuckled. “All mortal lives are, Emrys. Even yours. Some, such as yourself, have the potential to achieve some form of greatness in their short time here, but you’ve nothing more to hope for once you’ve fulfilled your destiny.”

“How encouraging,” she said drily.

He shrugged and held his left hand out to her. When she didn’t move, he simply said, “Emrys.”

She didn’t question him, but she hesitated momentarily before placing her right hand in his. Shivers of pleasure slid down her spine as Baelfire traced the inside of her hand—she tried her best to ignore them and hold his gaze, but looking into his eyes only succeeded in making it harder to ignore her feelings.

“What are you doing,” she asked, in an attempt to distract herself.

“You’re never the same, are you,” he murmured absentmindedly. As close as he was to her, Emrys suddenly got the feeling that Baelfire was not with her in that moment. “You mortals are always changing—no consistency, even amongst lifetimes.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you would mean by that. And you’ve left me enough riddles to figure out, so I’d appreciate it if you’d be more direct in what you tell me.”

“You’re speaking of the Prophecy, aren’t you, Emrys?”

“You promised next time you would tell me about my lifetimes with Arthur.”

Baelfire said nothing. Then, suddenly he pulled her close to him and placed a hand behind her neck. She thought she’d felt shivers before! She realized how dry her lips were and felt compelled to moisten them.

“Don’t move,” he ordered as he leaned his forehead against hers. He probably thought this was an incredibly simple task, but Emrys found difficulty in being so close to him. This was the second time in as many days that she’d been held so intimately, although Emrys was pretty sure she’d read too much into her situation with Arthur.

Now, more than ever, she longed for Will, her oldest friend, whom she’d left behind in Ealdor—rather, she longed for another shared moment of intimacy. When Reuben’d left, Will had been there. Will had always been there, even before Reuben had left. And Emrys’d wanted to be there for him, too—more than physically. She just couldn’t seem to do it, not even after they’d been together.

Since her night with Will, Emrys had realized how _different_ she suddenly felt about certain touches. She was much more sensitive to them now. When Arthur had held her by her waist, she’d had a hard time thinking about anything other than her last night in Ealdor—the warmth of Will’s body, the feeling of hands tangled up in hair, the tingling sensation in her lips…the look of betrayal when he realized, too late, that she was leaving anyway.

It all seemed so long ago now, and she realized she hadn’t thought much of her village since she’d left. She never thought about going back—not even when Reuben had threatened to send her away from Camelot—but she’d never thought about whether or not her journey to Camelot had been _worth_ leaving her home either.

But seeing how much Arthur’d cared for the lives of people considered to be beneath him—for her brother and for her last night­—Emrys was beginning to think that she had misjudged him. When he’d looked at her afterwards, she’d felt something inside her heart resonate. Not the same feeling she’d had when she thought of Will, but a similar connection.

The feeling of fire around her neck broke her train of thought. She started to squirm, but Baelfire held her still. After what felt like forever, Baelfire released her. Her hands flew to her throat and she was surprised to feel a leather braid underneath her fingers.

Baelfire lifted the symbol at the bottom of the loop to reveal three connected spirals. When Emrys looked up again, she realized that the symbol and Baelfire’s eyes were the exact same shade of silver.

“It’s very pretty,” said Emrys, attempting to distract herself from Baelfire again, “and I’m flattered, but how is a piece of jewelry supposed to answer my question?”

“This is the symbol of _einioes_ ,” he told her.

Emrys’ breath caught in her chest for a moment. “Lifetimes,” she said in a quiet whisper.

One of his eyebrows arched in surprise. “You know more about the Druid language than you let on, Emrys.”

“Well, like you, I can’t tell _all_ my secrets, now, can I?” She flashed a quick smile before sobering up again. “Why did you give me this?”

“In the past, this symbol has been used to cleave yours and Arthur’s many lifetimes together.” He dropped the symbol against her chest and stepped away from her. “It’ll give you the answers you seek.”

Emrys narrowed her eyes at the back of Baelfire’s head and tried not to think about how good he looked from behind. “Oh, it will, will it? Can it tell me why you won’t give me a straight answer for anything?”

Baelfire placed his hand at the base of the Great Tree of Avalon and glanced at Emrys over his shoulder. “The last time I gave you the answers you sought, you used it against me.”

She crossed her arms as she said, “You’re the one who said that I’m not like my other lifetimes.”

“Yes,” he mused, “it’s true you are… _different_ than your previous incarnations.” His eyes lowered to her chest and Emrys was certain he wasn’t looking at the necklace. As his gaze returned to her eyes, Baelfire said, “I doubt, however, that _that_ aspect of you has changed much since your last life.”

Emrys stepped forward until she was standing beside Baelfire at the tree. “I find it a little unfair to judge someone by the actions they took in their previous life,” she whispered, never taking her eyes off of the bark in front of her.

Baelfire’s eyes still bore into the side of Emrys’ face. “Perhaps.” He stretched his fingers out and turned her face toward his by gripping the underside of her chin. “But tell me this, Emrys—can you promise me that you would _not_ use any of the information I gave you against me?”

For once, Emrys didn’t feel the urge to look away from the intensity of Baelfire’s silver eyes. How angry she’d been at him for the past couple of weeks! While they had a mutual agreement, Emrys knew that she didn’t fully trust Baelfire. “No.”

She feared, for a split second, what he would do to her. She wondered if he _could_ do anything to harm her in her dreams. She was even more afraid when Baelfire threw his head back and laughed. “You’re more honest than your other counterparts, Emrys. I admire that.”

Emrys left out a breath of relief and steeled herself as she asked, “How did I betray you?”

Baelfire’s laughter quickly died and he looked up to the sky. Emrys watched his chest fill up slowly with a deep breath and deflate with its release just as gradually. Finally, he turned to her and said, “In your last life, you trapped me here.”

Now it was Emrys’ time to be quiet. She thought about her first meeting with Baelfire, what he’d told her then. She’d realized he was trapped when he’d first transformed, but she could never have guessed _why_. She thought of the anger—and fear, she realized now—that he’d had when she’d threatened to leave him in this realm. “That’s why you waited a millennium for me, isn’t it?”

“Some magic is so powerful that it can only be broken by the same magic that put it in place.”

Emrys clutched at the necklace. A sense of dread fell over her as she considered Baelfire’s words. “And,” she said, “is it powerful magic that connects me and Arthur?”

“The most powerful and oldest magic of all time,” he whispered. This time, when his eyes fell, Emrys knew he was looking at the necklace. “It is a magic that outdates even that of the Old Religion.”

Emrys allowed herself more time to process this. “How does one even begin to break that?”

“You don’t, but it’s become clear to me that you won’t accept this as an answer. I have to admit I was quite surprised you were able to successfully cast that copying spell on the licorice root. And that was your first time attempting that healing spell on your brother and mistress, was it not? Those spells should’ve been more challenging for you, but I suppose I may have underestimated your natural skill and determination.”

“Careful,” said Emrys, “it almost sounds like you were giving me a compliment.” She paused for a moment, thinking about what she had told Arthur the night before. “About Faolán…”

“Yes, the pathetic baker’s apprentice,” Baelfire mused. “What about him? I know you have plans to go after him.” He chuckled and sat down in the grass. It was weird for Emrys to see him so casually sprawled out, especially when Baelfire’s entire being screamed everything _but_ casual. “Forgive me,” he said in between his laughter. “I was thinking of his little stunt just now. It had the potential to be great—especially considering his tutelage—but he made an amateur mistake.”

“Mistake,” Emrys asked as she joined him on the ground.

“I told you that some magic is so powerful that it can only be broken by the same kind of magic; there is another kind of magic that requires a sort of conduit in order for it to be sustained. Anything can be a conduit, but it’s best if you can ensure its safety. If a conduit is damaged in any way, the magic will be lost.”

“Arthur,” Emrys breathed, realization finally striking her. “He cut Faolán with his sword. Faolán used himself as a conduit.”

“He did,” Baelfire confirmed. “It was foolish of him to use something that can be so easily damaged. Most sorcerers are only able to create one conduit in their lifetime, two at most.”

“Why?”

“Not enough power. You’ll come to learn that your magic is very special, Emrys—completely different from others’. It has multiplied with each lifetime you’ve gone through, which makes you incredibly powerful. But power isn’t enough. Having a natural, magical aptitude will only help you so much in a duel against someone who has more magical experience than you.”

“Does Faolán have more magical experience than me?”

He turned and gave her another one of his wicked smiles. “We shall have to see. But for now, I think it would be best for me to let you rest. Don’t forget that you carry answers around your neck.”

 

~

 

Baelfire’s eyes were on her that morning, as they had been since he’d given Emrys the necklace. But that’d been several days ago, and he hadn’t visited her since to tell her _how_ to get the answers from her necklace. No matter how hard she tried or how much she wished it would happen, she couldn’t get the necklace to tell her whether or not Faolán would prove himself a challenge in a magical fight. And staking out Faolán over the past couple of days hadn’t given her any further insight either.

Still, the time had allowed her to be distracted from her real problem. If she were honest with herself, what Emrys really wished was that her necklace could tell her what was wrong with Morgana, who’d been unusually surly and evasive as of late.

Reuben didn’t know why either, but he had promised Emrys that he would investigate the matter on her behalf, if it meant that she would really focus on helping Arthur capture Faolán. And so, Emrys had decided to devote all of her energy to successfully executing hers and Arthur’s plan, even if it meant getting up before dawn to do so.

Emrys clutched at her necklace as she approached the bakery. Though she hadn’t yet figured out how to unlock its answers, she did find comfort in knowing that it was with her. At least, it was more comfortable than having Baelfire’s eyes on her.

There was the faintest glow of a fire illuminating Emrys’ path in the darkened light before dawn. She followed it to the back of the bakery and found Faolán tossing wood into an open furnace. She stopped, ten paces away from him, as he straightened his back.

Faolán turned, suddenly, extending one of the logs towards her face. She couldn’t see him underneath his hood, but she knew that he had a clear view of her face, lit up by the fire. “Emrys,” he whispered. “I’d hoped you’d come see me again.”

Her mouth was a thin line across her face. “Are you not going to take off that ridiculous hood?” With deliberate steps, Emrys moved forward, her hands outstretched for him.

“Don’t,” he begged. “Please.” He dropped his log and grabbed both of her wrists in his hands.

She’d hoped she would be prepared the next time he touched her. As it was, she barely managed to stifle a gasp as a surge of electricity passed between them. Faolán seemed to feel it too, this time, because he let out a hiss through his teeth.

“You’re upset,” he finally said. “I can feel it.”

Emrys pushed against him and when she yanked his hood back from his head, this time a gasp escaped her. A large and ugly scar separated the two sides of his face. From the main wound, jagged lines, like spider webs stretched across the rest of his face.

“Is this what you wanted to see?” His eyes, still a startling green color, bore into hers, searching for something. The fire behind him rose on its own, and she wondered if it was her magic or his that made it respond so.

“This was never what I wanted, Faolán.”

His eyes dropped to the ground, but only for a moment. The power between them had subsided to a mere lingering sense of tingling now. It didn’t even pick up when he moved his hands to either side of her neck.

“Emrys, you must believe that I only had the best intentions.”

She slid him a guarded look. “I don’t have to believe anything. And I don’t. You tried to kill my brother.”

“Your brother? No, I never—“ His hands trembled at the base of her neck. “The boy who was with you that day in the market…”

“That was my brother,” she finished for him. Her fists clenched around the sides of her dress, but Emrys made sure to keep her emotions in check. She had to stay focused. “Tell me, Faolán, what your best intentions were, then.”

“Protecting you,” he said immediately, his hands coming to cup the sides of her face. “When we first touched, I recognized a feeling within you. You’re trapped here. And these people—they aren’t like us. They’ll never understand either of us, never understand why either of us need to be free.”

Emrys pulled his hands off of her face and narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t even know what I want to be free from.”

Faolán held her hands in his. “I may not know now, but tell me, Emrys, and I’ll understand.”

“You could never understand,” she whispered.

He tightened his grip. “Yes, I could,” he bit out. “Unless you think there’s someone else who could understand you better. Your prince, perhaps?”

Her face contorted in surprise. “ _My_ prince? You can’t possibly mean Arthur.”

“He won’t understand you either, you know.”

“I know that,” she hissed back. Then, quieter, “Of course I know that.” She looked down, realizing the truth of her words.

“Does he?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What is your relationship with Prince Arthur?”

“I…” Emrys didn’t know what to say. She shared a destiny with Arthur, but she wasn’t sure what that meant to her. She certainly wouldn’t classify him as a friend. But to simply say she was just a servant in his castle didn’t quite feel right either, even disregarding the near intimate moment they’d shared not too long ago.

Her face settled into a frown and she lifted her chin. “It’s none of your business.”

Faolán’s face wasn’t any softer. “Maybe so,” he conceded. He put his hands on her shoulders and peered into her eyes. “But you do know, right?”

“Know what, Faolán?”

“Oh, come on, Emrys! He’s so obvious, it’s sick,” Faolán muttered.

A tuft of blond hair behind Faolán caught Emrys’ eyes. _Arthur_ , she realized immediately. He wasn’t supposed to be here yet! But Emrys wasn’t sure Arthur was thinking about that. The prince had a murderous look in his eye as he slinked around the back of the bakery. Emrys’ anger flared and so did the fire. In order to avoid it, Arthur stumbled backward and knocked over some clay bowls.

“What was that,” Faolán asked as he turned around, just narrowly missing Arthur’s hidden shape.

“A cat,” Emrys said dismissively. She glanced over at the spot where Arthur hid in the darkness. “Idiot.”

Faolán turned back to her then, eyebrows turned upwards in surprise. She scrambled around to find a way to recover their conversation as he took another step closer to her and peered into her face. Just past his ear, Emrys could see Arthur come back into view.

Her mind was racing. She couldn’t risk deliberately using her magic with Arthur this close. But if Arthur tried to take on Faolán by himself, she wasn’t sure he would be able to hold his own.

Faolán’s voice snapped her attention back to him; his tone and eyes laced with suspicion: “Why are you here, Emrys?”

She raised a singular eyebrow and did her best to seem as indignant as possible—it wasn’t hard to pretend. “I would’ve thought it obvious by now, but if I must spell it out for you…”

Emrys cupped the sides of Faolán’s face and pulled him into her, planting her lips on his. He gasped against her mouth, frozen in place. Then, finally, his arms snaked around her waist and he pressed back into her. It wasn’t too long since she’d had her last kiss, but she realized in that moment how much she had missed kissing, how much she had missed the different feeling of electricity that came with it.

Her hands morphed into fists at the back of Faolán’s head. She would’ve been lying to say she _hadn’t_ imagined doing this with the baker’s apprentice when they had first met. She would also be lying, however, to say that she hadn’t wished for the kiss under different circumstances. She tried not to think of his scars as her nose brushed up against the rough skin.

Mindful of the fact that she now had an audience, Emrys pulled out of the kiss, her forehead on Faolán’s. He traced small circles into her lower back as her hands slid back down to his shoulders.

Emrys took large gulps of air to catch her breath. “You were worried about Arthur for nothing.”

Her hands shook from the rumbling of Faolán’s chuckle. He pushed a bit of her hair behind her ear. “I wish you weren’t wrong, Emrys. Nimueh told me the truth about Arthur’s destiny.”

“Nimueh?” The name wasn’t familiar to her. She looked up at him then and gasped. “Your scar!”

His fingers abandoned the designs they’d been making in her back in favor for feeling across Faolán’s now smooth face. Instead of relief, horror dominated his features. He grabbed Emrys by her shoulders and shook her. “What did you do, Emrys?”

“I-I didn’t do anything!”

Fear seemed to wash over him. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“Do you,” asked Arthur as he stepped out of the shadows, his face a collection of straight lines. He pressed the tip of his sword against Faolán’s back as Lancelot, Gwaine, and Percival came up behind him.

Faolán threw a glance over his shoulder. “Why, it’s Prince Arthur! To what do I owe this pleasant surprise? I’m afraid my master isn’t due to be here for another hour, if you’ve come to see him. Never was an early riser, that one.”

Arthur lifted his chin and kept his sword level. “I’ve come to serve you your justice owed. Now, if you would kindly release the handmaiden…”

“Certainly.” He dropped her shoulders and held his hands out at eye level.

Nothing was going according to plan. With Faolán’s eyes on her like that—anger and yearning churning in his green—Emrys wasn’t sure she would be able to move her feet. When she finally did gain command of her body again, she found herself stepping toward Faolán instead of away.

“Emrys,” Arthur growled, but she ignored him.

“Who’s Nimueh?”

Faolán’s mouth turned up in a smirk. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Emrys opened her mouth to say something else, but was beaten to it by Arthur: “Emrys. Step away from him _now_.” The knights exchanged looks between themselves, but said nothing.

She hesitated, wishing Faolán would say more about Nimueh. Finally, Emrys looked away and made steps to move past him. Before she could pass him, Faolán grabbed her arm.

Arthur reacted immediately, raising his sword and charging at the young sorcerer. He stopped when Faolán turned and moved Emrys in front of him. His fingers twitched around the hilt of his sword, still in the air.

“It’s as I thought,” Faolán said as he held Arthur’s gaze. “You see it now, don’t you, Emrys? How obvious it is?”

Arthur’s eyes were as dark as the night sky. “Shut up,” he barked.

Emrys stumbled as Faolán forced her to backtrack with him. Arthur started to follow them, but froze in place when Faolán held up his finger. “I told you before that Emrys would provide me with all the protection I needed.”

“Let her go.” Arthur lowered his sword, fists clenched at his sides.

Faolán leaned into Emrys’ ear and lowered his voice as he said, “Make no mistake, Emrys. There is a special place reserved for those who would willingly turn on their own kind.”

Before Emrys could say anything, Faolán shoved her into Arthur, who opened his arms to catch her. Together, they fell to the ground. Above her, Emrys was aware of Arthur yelling something to the knights, but when she sat up, Faolán and all of his answers had already disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, Emrys surprised me while I was writing this chapter. Next, we'll see how Emrys and Arthur handle the aftermath of their failed capture and her...*interaction* with Faolán. From how it's going right now, I can tell you it won't be pretty. Anyway, don't forget to leave a review!


	12. The Things Between (Emrys)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of her failure to capture Faolán, Emrys must figure out how to reconcile with both of the Pendragon siblings now.

He’d gotten away. All that work, all that planning, all the attention she’d diverted away from Morgana hadn’t even mattered—Faolán was still gone.

Percival and Lancelot each offered a hand to Emrys and Arthur. Emrys let out a huge sigh of frustration and dusted off the skirts of her dress. “Well, that went well,” she said. “At least this time my dress wasn’t sullied.”

Arthur picked up his sword and sheathed it. “I’m sure it wouldn’t have stayed that way for much longer,” he grumbled.

Emrys spun around, eyes widened at the prince. “I beg your pardon?”

He didn’t look at her. In fact, he seemed busy adjusting the straps on his gloves.

“Emrys,” said Lancelot carefully, “perhaps we should escort you back to Silas.”

She waved his hand away and closed the distance between her and Arthur. “No, I want to hear what the prince had to say. Go on, Pendragon. No need to pretend you’re shy with me. If something’s bothered you, now’s the time to tell me.”

Arthur snapped his attention back to her, his mouth set in a firm line. “Why didn’t you move when I told you to?”

“Why didn’t _you_ stick with our original plan? You were supposed to wait until I led him out of the bakery and into an area where it would’ve made for an easier capture! Did you forget what we came here to do?”

“Did you? I hadn’t realized I was going to end up as chaperone for this little gathering between you and your secret lover. Should I’ve waited for the two of you to finish getting off then?”

Shock rendered her speechless, but only for a moment. Around them, she heard the knights’ sharp intake of breaths. “Is your head so thick that you don’t even realize I saved _your_ life with that kiss? All of your lives, I might add.”

Arthur let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, I’m sure. Is that what you’re telling yourself?”

“It’s the truth,” she insisted. He tried to maneuver around her to exit the bakery, but Emrys followed. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but Faolán has powerful magic. The four of you would’ve been overpowered in a matter of seconds.”

“That’s pretty bold talk coming from the girl he just held hostage.”

“It’s not like I was in danger. Faolán would never hurt me.”

Arthur’s face fell into a deeper scowl as some workers rushing by with wooden planks altered his path, lessening the distance between him and Emrys. “Yes, I can see that. I’m starting to wonder if that’s the _real_ reason he asked for you in the dark woods. He just wanted to continue your little dalliance.”

With a burst of energy, Emrys sprinted forward and blocked Arthur’s path. She waited until he reluctantly looked at her before she said, “I didn’t have to tell you about Faolán. Say what you want, Arthur, but you know it’s true. I _chose_ to turn him in, to offer my help to capture him. If I had a relationship with him, don’t you think I would’ve mentioned something as important as that?”

For a moment, his face lost some of its hardness, and Emrys saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before—hurt. “Honestly, I don’t.”

In desperation, she looked to the other knights for support, but none of them would catch her eye. “I want you to be able to trust me.”

Arthur shouldered his way past her. “Well, then, you should’ve told me earlier.”

 

~

 

Emrys wasn’t sure if it had been Arthur or Morgana’s doing, but somehow she’d gotten stuck with the job of polishing all the armor the knights had gone through in the past few weeks. Though the task was grueling, Emrys was at least grateful that the scrubbing gave her something to focus her anger on.

She cursed as she sliced her finger against the edge of a breastplate.

“Well, _that_ certainly isn’t very ladylike,” said Reuben as he rounded the corner, carrying even more armor. He gave her a tight smile as he set it down at her feet.

Emrys kicked a helmet away from her. “How is it possible they went through _this_ much armor?”

“It’s not,” Reuben admitted. “Arthur heard you’d been sent here and ‘accidentally’ knocked these into the mud.”

So it had been _both_ of the Pendragon children. “I assume Arthur filled you in on what happened this morning?”

He winced at her bluntness, just as he’d used to do when they were kids. “It was Gwaine. I actually haven’t heard Arthur speak much today, aside from his order to bring these to you. He’s pretty much busied himself with anyone who dares to join him on the training grounds.”

Emrys couldn’t help the long sigh that came out of her. She scrubbed harder at the armor that had cut her. When it was done, she flung it across the room. Reuben didn’t say anything, but she sensed that there were questions he wanted to ask her. She had quite a few of her own.

“Do you think I’m like Malin,” she whispered.

Reuben’s response was immediate: “Of course not! Why would you think that?”

“Malin had magic, and yet he clearly had no qualms about being a witch hunter. What if turning in Faolán makes me no better?” She folded her knees into her chest and buried her head into her legs.

Reuben sat beside his sister and tugged at one of her strands of hair. “You listen to me, Emrys. You are _not_ like Malin. You’re not even like Faolán. Your magic is different and pure and so, so special.”

She shifted so that she could put her head on his shoulder. “But I killed Noren and I made a plan to capture Faolán—Reuben, I should be trying to _save_ other people who have magic!”

“Not when they’re using their magic for evil, Emrys. That’s what makes you different than Malin and Faolán and Noren.” He wrapped his arm around her and rested his cheek on her head.

Emrys sighed into Reuben’s hug. “I really missed you.”

He swooped his head down and blew into her ear, laughing when she jumped away from him. Emrys found herself laughing, too. “You’re impossible,” she told him.

Reuben watched her finish laughing, a wide smile still on his face. “That’s better.” His eyes widened suddenly and he stood up.

“What’s wrong?” Emrys whipped around to see what he was staring at and froze when she saw Morgana standing in the doorway. She jumped to her feet. “Princess!”

The right corner of Morgana’s mouth twitched slightly. “No, please,” she said, her eyes looking everywhere but at Emrys. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Emrys cast a frantic glance at Reuben, who nodded and said, “I should get back to Arthur.” He gave his sister a quick smile and then shuffled out of the room.

Emrys’ mind was reeling. Morgana hadn’t sent for her in days, let alone actively sought her out. As the silence grew between them, Emrys felt the compelling need to say something: “I’m sorry.”

Morgana flicked her eyes up to meet Emrys. “Sorry?”

“I should’ve told you about my…gift earlier.” She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to refer to it, the power that Morgana thought she had discovered about Emrys. Still, she kept going. “I’ve kept things from you and now things are estranged between us. And—”

A sob choked back the rest of the things she wanted to say, and suddenly Emrys found herself gasping through tears. She bit her lower lip and clenched her fists at her side, hating herself for showing so much weakness.

Suddenly, a pair of warm arms wrapped themselves around Emrys and pulled her into a hug. Morgana’s body trembled from tears of her own as she tightened her grip around Emrys. For a moment, they stood there together, both of them relying on the other’s arms to keep them standing.

Then, finally, Morgana whispered, “I’m sorry. I’ve hurt you.” Her right hand moved to the back of Emrys’ neck to pull the serving girl even closer. “I hope you’ll forgive me, Emrys.”

Emrys’ sniffle turned into a small laugh. “Forgive you? For what?”

“I’ve been avoiding you,” Morgana said, her hand turning into a fist. “It all seems so silly now.”

Emrys’ heart ached to hear that Morgana actually had been avoiding her, but she was grateful for the relief that came from being in Morgana’s arms. Morgana’s hug was different than Arthur’s—firm where Arthur’s had seemed timid.

Morgana sat down on the bench and, moving her hands to cover Emrys’, pulled the serving girl down beside her. “I haven’t been honest with you either. When Malin came after you, I realized how…fond I had become of you. There’s something about you, Emrys, that hasn’t made me feel quite like myself. And I’m not talking about your gift.”

Emrys felt her breath catch in her chest as Morgana locked eyes with her. “I thought I had to stay away from you,” Morgana continued, “but when Arthur told me what happened I…”

Fear and then anger washed over Emrys. “Did he tell you everything?”

Morgana’s eyes darted to the side, confirming Emrys’ thoughts even before she said, “Yes. One of the reasons I came here is actually because of Arthur. My brother feels pain and loss in very special ways, and I’ve always been the one to translate it for others. But I knew I couldn’t come talk to you about how he’s hurting until I’d worked through my own.”

Morgana ran her fingers over the backs of Emrys’ hands. After a little bit of silence, Morgana swallowed and said, “When Arthur was speaking, all I could think about was how we’re clearly both afraid of the same thing: losing you.”

“Me,” Emrys asked, incredulous. “But I’m no one, Princess—just a serving girl in a castle.”

Morgana’s fingers tightened around Emrys’ hand. “Not to me,” she said. “You’re special to me, Emrys. These past few days without you have been nothing short of unbearable. I couldn’t imagine what would happen if I were to actually lose you.”

Emrys felt her heart skitter in her chest as happiness bloomed within her. She didn’t even bother trying to stop the smile that came to her face as she said, “I couldn’t imagine losing you either, Morgana. You’ve been so kind to me since I’ve come here, like the sister I’ve never had.”

Something unrecognizable passed over Morgana’s face, and worry snaked through Emrys. She had said something wrong, she was sure of it. Perhaps she had overstepped a boundary? “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean to imply—“

“Emrys,” said Morgana as she put a gentle hand on the side of the girl’s face. Anything that had made Emrys worry moments before was suddenly gone. “It’s alright. I’m happy you feel so close to me.”

 _Closer than anyone_. Morgana was kind and easy to talk to. Emrys opened her mouth to say this, but couldn’t seem to get the words out. Instead, all she could think about were the words Arthur’d last said to her: _You should’ve told me earlier_.

She closed her fist against the skirt of her dress as Morgana said, “I feel like a huge weight’s been lifted off of my shoulders.”

Emrys wished she felt the same. She used both hands to push her hair back as she rose to her feet. “I want to talk to Arthur, but I’m not sure I can walk through the grounds by myself. Would you come with me just until I can get him alone?”

Morgana’s mouth curved up into a smile. As she stood up, she said, “Of course, Emrys.”

Emrys gave a quick nod and made her way around the pile of armor at her feet. She tried to think about what she was going to say to Arthur as she and Morgana made their way to the training grounds. Emrys threw a quick glance at the squires, who were huddled together on the far side of the field. The squires that noticed her quickly fell silent.

Morgana leveled the young boys with a pointed look and gave Emrys a gentle smile. “They act as if they’ve never seen a girl on the training grounds before.”

“To be fair to them,” said Percival suddenly as he stepped in front of the pair, “they’ve only ever seen Emrys here before and she hardly counts.” He caught Emrys’ fist with a shoulder and a wince.

“Sorry,” Emrys mumbled.

“It’s alright. I’d rather take it from you than Arthur.” He rolled his shoulder back. “And I’d rather _you_ not even be here right now. What are you doing here?”

“I—“ Emrys stopped as she heard another knight beside her groan loudly. If she hadn’t witnessed the knight remove his helmet herself, she wouldn’t have believed that it was Lancelot.

Lancelot tugged at the chain mail around his neck, exposing a thick layer of sweat. “I’ve never seen him so worked up before,” he said to Percival. Then, all at once, he seemed to notice Emrys and Morgana. “What are they doing here?”

Morgana frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Would you all _please_ stop asking why we’re here as if it isn’t already obvious? We’re here to talk to Arthur.”

Lancelot shared a quick look with Percival before saying, “I’m not sure that’s a great idea, Your Highness. I’m certain I don’t have to tell you that your brother isn’t in a particularly good mood right now.”

Morgana lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes slightly. “I didn’t ask you what you thought was a good idea, Lancelot, and I’m not asking you to stand out of our way. I’m telling you that we’re here to talk to Arthur.”

Emrys glanced between Morgana, Lancelot, and Percival, wondering who would be the first to speak. She’d never seen the princess so dismissive before. Suddenly, she felt a hand clap down on her shoulder. She wasn’t surprised to see Gwaine when she looked up.

Gwaine winked at Emrys as he said, “Now, to what do we owe the honors of having you two beautiful women grace our humble training grounds?”

“Arthur,” Percival said with a grunt.

Any trace of Gwaine’s previous smile fell from his face. Before he could say anything, Emrys held up a finger and said, “I already know you all think it’s a bad idea, but I really need to talk to him.”

As Gwaine stared into her eyes, uncharacteristically silent, she wondered whether or not he would argue against the idea too. He rubbed his neck and let out a long sigh. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, moppet.”

Emrys nodded. “I know. And I don’t care.”

He chuckled and said, “I figured.” Gwaine nodded toward Percival and Lancelot and stepped away from the girls. “If anyone could get through to him right now, it’d be you.”

She blew out her breath in a huff. “We’ll see. Thank you, Gwaine.”

As she and Morgana started to move past the knights, Emrys realized that the knights were following her. She spun around and crossed her arms. “We don’t need an audience for this.”

Lancelot opened his mouth to say something and then suddenly closed it and straightened his back. As Emrys took note of the changes in the others’ postures as well, she realized, with a sinking feeling, what was happening.

Emrys pivoted again, catching Arthur’s eyes and freezing him in place a few feet away from her. She suddenly felt her chest tighten with fear. Though she was aware that she’d seen him earlier that morning, Emrys hadn’t realized how much she had missed seeing him in just that short period of time.

“Arthur,” she said, mostly because she didn’t know what else to say. Almost immediately, she felt stupid for saying anything.

He dropped her gaze and turned toward Morgana instead. “What are you doing here?”

Morgana’s eyes became slits and she folded her arms over her chest. “Are you so used to being around boys that you’ve forgotten how to treat a lady, Arthur? I believe Emrys was speaking to you.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but the rest of his face remained impassive. Still, Emrys noticed then how different he suddenly seemed. He stood before her with his hands clasped together behind him, his shoulders thrown back, and his chin lifted so high that he was forced to look down his nose when his eyes passed over Emrys. This wasn’t the Arthur she had come to know at all, or even Prat Arthur.

No, _this_ was definitely Prince Arthur.

“I know she was,” he said, “but seeing as she’s not where she’s supposed to be anyway, I chose to ignore her.”

Despite herself, Emrys frowned and took a step toward him. She was further angered when he deliberately chose to lift his eyes toward the sky. “What do you mean I’m not where I’m supposed to be? I came to talk to you, Arthur.”

“Sire.” He stuck his sword into the ground and finally turned to look at her. “I’ve been thinking that you calling me Arthur is much too informal. I’d prefer you call me sire from now on.”

“Arthur,” Morgana hissed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Arthur said nothing, pinning Emrys with his eyes. She swallowed her pride and gave a quick, subservient nod. “I came to talk to you, _sire_.”

He pressed his lips together for a few moments before saying, “Well, if you have something to say, Emrys, now’s the time.”

Emrys glanced behind her at Morgana and the three knights. “Actually,” she said, “I was wondering if I might be able to speak with you somewhere more private, sire.”

“Don’t try to tell me you’ve suddenly grown shy, Emrys.” Arthur’s eyes flashed with blue fire. “Anything you have to say, you can do it here.”

“Please,” Emrys said. She tried not to think about the squires as they turned around to watch their interaction. “I really think we need to talk about this thing between the two of us.”

Arthur blanched suddenly and exchanged a glance with Morgana. “What thing between us?”

Emrys was almost as confused as Arthur seemed to be afraid. She’d thought what she was talking about had been obvious: “The whole…incident with Faolán clearly brought up trust issues between us.”

All at once, Arthur’s expression soured again and Prince Arthur returned. “There’s nothing for us to discuss, Emrys.”

Emboldened by the break she’d just seen in his character, Emrys stepped forward. “Are you joking? There’s a lot we have to talk about. What about—”

“Maybe _you_ feel the need to talk about things,” Arthur said with a sneer, “but I, on the other hand, am perfectly fine leaving things as they are. Despite what you may think, I’ve no quarrel with you right now, Emrys. Don’t create one.”

“Emrys,” someone called behind her. She turned around and saw Reuben, saw the warning in his eyes even without him having to open his mouth again.

As she glanced around at everyone’s stunned faces, frustration turned to angry tears in her eyes. She sniffed them back and looked back at her brother, just as she’d used to do when they had been little. “Reuben, please help me.”

“Don’t you dare,” Arthur barked. Then, to Emrys, he said, “This is the last time I’ll warn you to drop the matter.”

She spun back around, facing Arthur with her half-formed tears. If they bothered him, he didn’t show it. And that was fine by her. If he didn’t care about her feelings, then she wouldn’t care about his: “I will not. You’re being a royal prat, Arthur, and you know it! Would it be so bad for you to just shut up for once in your life and _listen_ to someone else?”

Her magic bubbled underneath the surface of her skin, forcing Emrys to dig her fingernails into her closed fists to keep it from spilling over. Oh, how she longed to blow Arthur away with air magic!

“Get out.”

Emrys’ anger immediately turned into confusion. She’d expected Arthur’s face to be red from his own anger, with frustration tinting the tips of his ears pink, but his skin was just as light as it had ever been. Even his voice seemed unnaturally calm. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”

“Get out of my sight,” he said, slowly, as if he knew she needed help processing each word. “I don’t want to see you on my field anymore; I don’t want you as part of my Royal Guard; and, if I can help it, I don’t want to see you in this castle ever again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! Despite being the shortest month, February was super hectic for me! Luckily, Spring Break starts this Friday for me, which means that I'll have PLENTY of time to write and make up for it! As always, don't forget to leave a review with any of your thoughts, comments, and predictions!


	13. The Plight of the Pendragons (Reuben)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reuben learns more about his sister's relationships with the Pendragon siblings.

He couldn’t kill the future king.

Reuben tried to remember this as he watched Morgana angrily lead his stunned sister away from the field. He tried to remember this as he turned back toward Arthur, whose face was just as impassive as it had been before. But mostly, Reuben tried to remember this as he opened his mouth to speak again: “You’re sacking her?”

He picked up his sword and held it out to Reuben, who took it without question. “Long overdue, if you ask me.”

Lancelot glanced back at Emrys, who was almost back to the castle. “You don’t actually mean that, do you, Arthur?”

“Sire,” Arthur corrected. “And do you have a problem with that, _Sir_ Lancelot?”

Percival stepped forward and peered down at the prince. Reuben wondered if Percival had to remind himself not to harm Arthur as well. “I do,” he said, as if there should’ve been no question to what he was feeling.

Arthur threw a deadly glare over his shoulder, and Reuben suddenly found himself thankful he’d taken Arthur’s sword. “You do,” Arthur repeated slowly, in a voice almost above a whisper. “And the rest of you?”

For a while, all the other knights were silent. Reuben wondered if he should say something himself—as if it wasn’t obvious enough that he disapproved of it all. Then, finally, Gwaine cleared his throat and said, “She was just coming to talk to you, mate. The least you could’ve done was hear her out.”

“There’s much less I could’ve done. And much more I could _still_ do to you lot,” Arthur said between gritted teeth.

Gwaine’s eyes grew dark. “A good king listens to his subjects.”

Reuben knew that Gwaine had struck a nerve even before he saw Arthur’s body tense up. He moved the prince’s sword behind his back, in case the sight of it would inspire an outlet for Arthur’s anger. He wasn’t even sure what he should do if Arthur were to lunge for Gwaine. He couldn’t fight the future king any more than he could kill him.

Then, all at once, Arthur’s anger seemed to vanish. He relaxed his shoulders and straightened his back as he exhaled through his mouth. In a quiet voice, he said, “What would any of you know about what it means to be a good king?”

Lancelot put a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder, silencing the smaller knight. “We’re only saying that this may not be the best way to handle things, sire. In the future, should you find yourself in an argument with another person—“

“You lot will take their side like you’re taking Emrys’ now,” Arthur shot back.

Finally, Reuben found his voice: “No one’s trying to take anyone’s side, sire. There isn’t even a side to take. Our concern, as your friends, is for both of you.”

“Friends,” Arthur scoffed. “My father was right, then—what happened this morning was my fault.”

“Your father,” Reuben asked. He’d thought that Arthur had gone straight to the training grounds after coming back from the failed mission. He’d been so focused on finding his sister that he hadn’t given much thought to Arthur’s whereabouts.

“You told your father everything, then,” Percival said. For the briefest of moments, Reuben thought he saw Percival’s hand clench into a fist.

Arthur didn’t answer. Instead, he closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the sun. “He made it clear that my inability to handle you all more seriously has allowed you to become lazy and inefficient. As knights, you all are called to be prepared to protect the crown and the people of Camelot from threats that would otherwise challenge our current status.”

“Arthur— _sire_ ,” said Lancelot, “we’re more than prepared. You know this.”

Arthur shook his head. “Not prepared enough. We would have been out of our league with Faolán. If Emrys hadn’t…” His jaw tightened for a split second. “Camelot cannot continue to rely on Emrys the way she has in the past against the threat of magic. If something were to happen to her, she deserves knights who are ready—a _king_ who is ready to protect her. The future king of Camelot can’t afford the luxury of friendship.”

Arthur glanced at Reuben and beckoned the serving boy to follow with a gloved hand. Reuben didn’t look back at the other knights and they made no other attempts to say anything to the prince. Still, Reuben held onto his thoughts as he followed the prince back to his chambers.

When they got back to Arthur’s room, Reuben made sure to carefully close the door and set down the sword. As Reuben helped Arthur untangle himself from his training armor, he wondered if he should say something to the prince.

Arthur seemed to be thinking the same thing: “Just get on with it, Reuben.”

Reuben grimaced as he thought about what he wanted to say. “What happened this morning wasn’t your fault, sire.”

Arthur let out a long sigh. “You’re only telling me what I want to hear.”

“I’m not,” Reuben promised.

“Either way, you’re still wrong. My father—“

“Wasn’t there this morning,” he finished. He carried the armor to the door, deciding that he would polish it later. “Sometimes things like this just happens, sire. You can’t blame yourself for things that are out of your control.”

Arthur sat on the edge of his bed and leaned backwards with a loud groan. “How would you know, Reuben? You weren’t even there.”

“I know,” Reuben admitted, “but—“

“It’s better that you weren’t,” Arthur grumbled as he threw his arm over his eyes. “You should’ve seen the way he was with her!”

No, Reuben didn’t think he should have. Never in his life had he been more grateful that he’d left Ealdor before Emrys had begun blossoming into a woman. As children, Emrys had always been popular among the boys her age—he could only imagine how those relationships had developed as she did.

Arthur didn’t seem to notice that Reuben wasn’t listening anymore. It didn’t seem to matter, though, as Arthur was still on the same topic when he finally turned his attention back to the prince: “All the things she could’ve done to distract him and she chose to kiss him. I’ve seen her fight before—she could’ve taken that sorcerer, even without a sword!”

Reuben raised an eyebrow. “You really believe that?”

“Yes,” Arthur said immediately. Then, “No? I don’t know! But I don’t understand why she thought it was necessary to kiss him.”

Arthur sat up and put his head between his knees as Reuben said, “My sister has always been prone to consider…alternative options first, no matter how unorthodox they may seem.”

“Yes, I’ve seen that. But I was right there, Reuben.”

Reuben was glad he didn’t have anything in his hands—he was certain he would’ve dropped it then. “Are you saying that _you_ wanted to kiss my sister, sire?”

Arthur snapped his head back up and Reuben watched as a deep flush spread over the prince’s face. “N-No!”

“Sire, you’re stuttering,” Reuben noted, incredulous.

Arthur turned his head to look out the window. “Only because you’re spouting nonsense!” He pushed his hair back and let out another long sigh. “I’m only saying that she should’ve realized that she didn’t have to worry about me or her or anyone else. I was right there, and I was ready to-to—“

“To protect her,” Reuben finished. “You weren’t just talking about being ready to protect Camelot—you were talking about Emrys.”

Arthur didn’t look at him. “It’s like she looked at me and knew I wasn’t ready.”

“Ready for what, sire?”

The prince pressed his lips together and shook his head. After a few more moments of silence, Reuben asked, “Did your father tell you to get rid of my sister?”

“No,” Arthur whispered. “He only knows that the mission wasn’t a success, that I messed up. He thinks I’ve been distracted.”

“Distracted?”

Arthur turned back to look at Reuben and gave him a solemn nod. “I can’t afford to be distracted, Reuben—not with a sorcerer running around and certainly not if that means I’ve put Emrys’ life at risk again.”

Reuben leaned against the wall closest to him and crossed his arms. Things were starting to come together, but he was still uncertain about one thing: “You didn’t have to sack her, then. You could’ve just told her all of this.”

Arthur clenched a fistful of his hair and gave a dry laugh. “Yet another thing I’ve made a mess of today. You’ve no idea how difficult it is to be a prince, Reuben.”

“You’re right,” Reuben admitted. “Especially now, considering you’ve recently decided you can’t have any friends.”

“Exactly,” Arthur murmured.

Reuben uncrossed his arms looked away from Arthur with a smile. “I suppose you should consider yourself lucky, then, that part of my job is to act as your confidant.”

Though he wasn’t looking at him, Reuben could hear a smile in Arthur’s voice: “It does make things a little less lonely for the future king of Camelot.”

Reuben turned away suddenly as someone rapt on the prince’s doors. He shared a quick look at Arthur, who seemed just as confused as he was, and made his way over to open it. For a split second, he wondered if it might be Emrys, and he prepared himself to find his angry little sister there when he cracked open one door.

But when he pulled back the door, Reuben was surprised to find Guinevere and not Emrys. “Oh,” he said, in an attempt to recover from his shock, “hello.”

If she was surprised to see him too, she didn’t show it. “Is Morgana with you?”

“No. I haven’t seen her since she left with Emrys a while ago,” said Reuben. He winced at the sound of Arthur’s dismissive cough.

Something that looked much too akin to fear flashed over Guinevere’s face. “Why would she be with Emrys?”

“I know things have been estranged between them recently, but my sister is still her handmaiden.”

Guinevere shook her head. “I heard Morgana finally sacked her.”

“Morgana? No, that was—“ Reuben fell silent as he threw another glance over his shoulder at Arthur, who was tensed over the side of his bed with his eyes on the floor.

“Gwaine said that Emrys had been sacked,” Guinevere continued, “and I assumed Morgana had finally done it.”

Reuben stepped toward the girl and tried to usher her out of Arthur’s door. He wanted to talk about this further, but wasn’t sure if he should ask her questions with Arthur right there. Guinevere didn’t seem to get his message and didn’t move, so Reuben resigned to just asking: “What do you mean Morgana had finally done it? Why was she going to sack my sister?”

Guinevere shook her head again and took a step back. “I don’t have time for this. I have to find Morgana.”

“No, please, wait,” he cried as she rushed away. He no longer cared about sparing Arthur’s feelings, not if there might be something wrong with Emrys. If Arthur called his name, he didn’t hear. He chased after Guinevere and managed to catch up to her at the end of the hall.

“What did you mean by that,” he asked as he quickened his pace to match hers.

“Where do you think they might have gone?” When he didn’t answer fast enough, she turned on him and snapped her fingers together twice. “This is important, Reuben! Where would your sister have gone?”

For once in his life, Reuben couldn’t seem to look her in the eye. He hadn’t been on the direct end of Guinevere’s glare in a long time and it wasn’t a place he liked to be. “I don’t know,” he stuttered.

Guinevere huffed at him and pinched the bridge of her nose. As always, her face was settled into a pretty, little frown, but Reuben noticed that her shoulders were shaking. “Guinevere,” he said, cautiously, “what’s going on with Morgana and Emrys?”

For once in all the years Reuben had known her, Guinevere seemed disinclined to gossip. She pressed her lips together as she held his gaze, and Reuben wished he knew what she was looking for in his eyes. Finally, she let out a breath and said, “Nothing’s happened _yet_ , but I suspect it’ll only be a matter of time before something does. Your sister is dangerous.”

Reuben bristled immediately and his fingers tightened into fists at his sides. “If this is about my sister’s gifts, you should know this is exactly why Silas and I thought it’d be best to hide it.”

“That’s another matter entirely,” Guinevere said with a wave of her hand. “Emrys poses a different threat, one that’s particularly dangerous for Morgana.”

“What are you talking about?”

Guinevere pressed her lips together again and wrung her hands in the front of her dress. With a groan, she moved toward the window, steadying herself against the ledge with her hands. “Swear you won’t speak a word of this to anyone if I tell you—not even Arthur.”

He hesitated at the mention of Arthur’s name. It was clear Guinevere wasn’t talking about magic, but Reuben couldn’t imagine what secret about his sister was so dangerous that even Guinevere thought she couldn’t risk telling anyone. “I swear to it. You don’t have to worry about sharing my sister’s secrets with me.”

“It isn’t Emrys’ secret,” she whispered. Guinevere steeled herself again before continuing. “You know that I’ve been close with Morgana since I came to work here. I know everything about her—including why she hasn’t yet been married off to someone.”

“Oh, everyone knows that already,” Reuben said immediately, before he could stop himself. He hurriedly tried to fix his mistake. “I only mean it’s because Morgana’s been so vocal about wanting her union to be as politically beneficial as possible.”

Guinevere groaned again. “I _know_ this. And I see it’s clear that her lies have worked on you and the rest of this castle just as well as it’s worked on Uther whenever he’s brought up the prospect of marriage for the past several years. Listen to me when I tell you that Morgana is _not_ interested in those sort of unions.”

Reuben found himself frowning. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Morgana has different… _preferences_. She’s always had them, but she’s never been so reckless with her actions before—others are bound to notice soon! She’s normally so careful about concealing her emotions, but ever since Emrys has come around, things have been different.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Reuben said, because at that moment he wasn’t sure what else he could say. Looking back, he started to wonder how he had missed all of the signs. What he had mistaken for chaste fondness had actually been—“Morgana is in love with Emrys.”

Hearing the words out loud seemed to lift a huge weight off of Guinevere’s shoulders. “She first saw Emrys in the courtyard during an execution, and it was all she could talk about for _days_. I thought it was harmless enough, so I allowed it, but I never expected Emrys to _actually_ show up in Morgana’s chambers one day! Anything I tried to do to get rid of her only seemed to make the two of them even more determined to come closer together. She was supposed to dismiss her earlier, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to go through with it.”

Things were _finally_ starting to come together for Reuben: “You were rude to my sister to try to protect Morgana.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I would do anything to protect my friend as I’m sure you would do anything to protect your sister. Morgana isn’t thinking straight, and more than one person could suffer for her thoughtlessness.”

“Suffer? What are you talking about now?”

“What was once a minor infatuation before has now almost become an obvious obsession. If Uther’s stance on magic is any indication of his treatment of those who practice things he considers unnatural…”

Reuben suddenly felt the need to steel himself beside Guinevere on the ledge. He thought it’d been hard enough keeping Emrys’ magic away from investigation, but now he feared his sister’s possible inculpation from her association with Morgana.

“Emrys can’t know,” Guinevere said. “I want them both to be safe, but I know how important Emrys’ view of Morgana remaining untainted is to her. I just don’t think I can do this on my own anymore.”

“We have to find them,” he finally said.

Guinevere nodded. “I thought that where I found Emrys, I’d certainly find Morgana. Is there any chance she’d be with your uncle?”

Reuben opened his mouth and then stopped as he realized what he was looking at outside the window: the start of the Dyad Festival. As young kids, Emrys and Reuben had begged their mother to join the group of people from their village traveling to attend Camelot’s most renowned celebration.

Reuben would like to think that his sister would have the sense to be with their uncle—especially during a time like this—but he knew better than to give her that much credit. She may have unwittingly found herself with Morgana’s attention, but Emrys would know _exactly_ what kind of trouble she’d risked getting herself into by attending the Dyad Festival. And Reuben knew, without a doubt, that, in the aftermath of an argument with Arthur, this was exactly where Emrys would choose to be.

He couldn’t kill the future king, but he _could_ kill his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've no idea how long I've been waiting to officially drop this reveal on you guys! It seemed that a lot of people missed the signs, but don't worry! Reuben did, too, and I still love him all the same! Hope you guys have been paying attention because there's a lot of things that have been namedropped in the (more recent) previous chapters that will be popping up again in this next one: "The Dyad Festival!" Hopefully this one won't take me forever to get out–I'm super excited for it! Anyway, as always, please don't forget to leave a comment, even if you leave one all the time! I'd love to hear you guys' thoughts, no matter how big or small!


	14. The Dyad Festival (Morgana)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana struggles to keep her feelings for Emrys hidden, but anything can happen at the Dyad Festival.

Morgana slid her arm through a crook in Emrys’ and pulled the serving girl closer to her as they walked. She couldn’t help but be amused as she watched Emrys’ head turn this way and that, taking in all of the activities as if the two hadn’t just spent hours together exploring the fairgrounds. “I can’t believe you’ve really never come here for the Dyad Festival before.”

She felt the hum of Emrys’ giggle in her ribcage before she saw her bright smile. “My mother never wanted to go. She hated the idea of it, actually. I always assumed the Festival just wasn’t all that great.”

“And now,” Morgana asked, an inquisitive smile on her lips.

“I can’t imagine why she never brought us here as kids.”

Morgana gave Emrys’ arm a gentle squeeze as she continued to guide the girl through the marketplace. She glanced over her shoulder at their chaperones, eyeing the distance that separated her and Emrys from Reuben and Guinevere. She’d tried several times to lose the unwanted pair, but none of her attempts had proven to be worthwhile.

Unfortunately, when Emrys had caught on to her brother’s presence, she’d been all too happy to spend the day with him, and Morgana hadn’t been able to say no to the girl. She had, however, managed to convince Guinevere to allow her and Emrys to have some space to themselves. Still, Morgana wished they were further away.

Morgana’s attention snapped back to Emrys when the serving girl suddenly broke apart to investigate a stand full of dresses. As she drifted over to where Emrys stood, Morgana thought she heard Reuben make a comment about the predictability of his sister’s fascination with the dresses.

Morgana smiled as she peered at Emrys, who was mesmerized by a particular purple dress. The dress wasn’t quite as fancy as one that Morgana would wear, but Morgana could see how its more intricate design would catch the eye of a girl whose wardrobe was probably full of plain dresses. “I take it you like it, then,” she asked.

Emrys held the top of the dress to her shoulders and gave a quick twirl as if to imagine what it’d be like to wear it. “It’s beautiful.”

“Then you should have it.” Morgana raised her hand and snapped the merchant to attention. She froze only for a moment when she felt Emrys’ hand on her wrist, but lost her nerve almost entirely when she turned to face Emrys’ honey-golden eyes.

“I couldn’t possibly afford it,” Emrys explained with a sad smile.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Guinevere cross her arms. “Morgana,” she said in a cautionary, but firm voice. She must’ve already seen the solution Morgana would come to.

Morgana gave Emrys’ hand a squeeze and nodded at the merchant. “We’ll take this, please. My father will take care of it.” She raised another hand when Emrys started to protest again and said, “It’s really the least our family can do for you after all you’ve done for us.”

Emrys looked down at her feet and shuffled her weight to either side. “Your family doesn’t owe me anything, especially not after today.”

Morgana accepted the box from the merchant and held it out to Emrys. She tried not to let the thought of Arthur’s actions affect her, but still she found the corners of her smile tightening. “Let’s try to put Arthur out of our minds from now on, shall we? No need to let Arthur spoil all of our fun. These next few days can be about you and me.”

“ _Morgana_ ,” Guinevere hissed again, this time in a sharper tone. She nudged Reuben and gave him a pointed nod toward his sister.

He avoided Morgana’s gaze as he cleared his throat. “We should probably get going, Emrys. Silas will be expecting us for dinner.”

For a while, Emrys didn’t look up at Morgana either, choosing instead to direct her quizzical gaze toward her brother. Finally, she took the box from Morgana and gave the princess a gentle, subservient nod. “Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

Morgana felt as if something hard had lodged itself in her throat and swallowed. Lately, she’d started to suspect that this was actually her heart masquerading as a lump She wondered if anyone else could see it, but as she looked at Emrys, she was certain that at least she couldn’t see her heart-lump.

“Tomorrow.”

 

~

 

“What were you _thinking_ , Morgana,” Guinevere groaned as she closed the door to the princess’ chambers. “Making plans to see each her again in private…Do you want to get caught? For someone to notice?”

Morgana ignored her lady-in-waiting’s anger. She let out a bright hum as she fell backwards onto her bed. “Today was wonderful, Guinevere! Absolutely wonderful.”

“Yes, well, I hope you enjoyed it, because you know you can’t have another day like that with her. I can’t believe you actually tried to run off with that serving girl,” Guinevere muttered.

“I really couldn’t help it.” She sat up as she felt Guinevere take a seat at the end of her bed. “But can you blame me for not being able to resist the temptation? She’s got that whole earth goddess, warrior priestess, save the world thing about her.”

Guinevere scrunched up her nose. “Who, _Emrys_?”

Morgana smiled and nodded her head. “Don’t you think so?”

“Absolutely not.” An ugly chortle came out of Guinevere’s mouth as Morgana tossed a pillow at her face. “Rash kitchen girls are hardly my type.”

“Yes,” said Morgana with a mischievous smile, “you’re more prone to those rough, tough, save the world _guys_ , like Arthur, right?”

This time, it was Guinevere who threw the pillow. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Morgana raised an eyebrow. She reached out and pinched Guinevere’s side, making the girl giggle. “Oh, really? Has something changed, Guinevere?” Another pinch. “You no longer fancy my brother? Are you lying to me or have you finally come to your senses?”

Guinevere gave a final chuckle and swatted Morgana’s hands away. “Sometimes your feelings for someone just go away. You just have to give it enough time.”

Morgana sobered immediately, a frown settling in on her face. “My feelings for Emrys aren’t going away anytime soon, Guinevere. And even if they do, it’s not going to change who I am.”

“I know this,” Guinevere insisted.

Morgana balled her fists into her sheets. A strange, burning sensation coursed through her veins, warming her insides until Morgana was certain that it would all explode. “Then why do I still feel like you’re trying to convince me otherwise? Nothing you tell me right now is going to change the way I feel about Emrys. Nothing you say is going to stop me from finding ways to be near her.”

“Morgana—“

“It won’t change anything because it doesn’t matter anyway! I already know that she doesn’t feel the same way about me, that she has feelings for—“ A sob choked out the rest of her words and Morgana hunched forward.

She clenched her teeth to bite back any more tears, but she couldn’t stop herself from trembling, not even when Guinevere pulled Morgana into a hug. Finally, Morgana stilled when Guinevere started to run her fingers through Morgana’s hair.

She folded over herself to fit the top of her head underneath Guinevere’s chin. “You don’t think Emrys knows about Arthur, do you?”

“I think they’re both idiots,” Guinevere mumbled. “Your precious earth goddess doesn’t seem to be very observant.”

This brought a quiet chuckle out of Morgana. “Her only flaw.”

Silence fell between them, and the weight of Morgana’s feelings settled back onto her shoulders. As if suddenly sensing her mood shift again, Guinevere said, “Do you want me to stay with you tonight, like I used to?”

Morgana’s relief came out in a whisper: “Please.”

She didn’t bother changing into her night shift. Instead, she and Guinevere simply stripped off the more uncomfortable parts of their outfits before curling up next to each other. And it was like this, with Morgana’s hand over Guinevere’s just as it had been when they were younger, that Morgana eventually drifted to sleep.

 

_She opened her eyes at the sharp pain she felt in her shoulders, gasping as the man in front of her dug his fingernails further into her. She watched the reality of what she’d done slowly register on his face: his mouth distorted into a surprised “O;” his eyebrows furrowed together in what seemed to be a mixture of confusion and rage; his eyes, a green that held almost as much intensity as her own blue, and an emotion she thought resonated in her own soul._

_She glanced down at her right hand and gaped in disbelief at the sight of the bloodied dagger it held. But before she could question it, her right hand shot out again, twisting the dagger deeper into his stomach as she tried to place the feeling she saw in his eyes._

_She waited until his green eyes turned dull before pulling the dagger out and letting him fall to the floor. Her hands trembled and her breaths came out in shallow gasps._

_“Morgana,” she heard behind her, and she turned to see an even more confused Arthur. “What have you done?”_

 

 

“Are you alright, Morgana,” Emrys asked, snapping the princess’ attention back to her. “You’ve been awfully quiet today. Did you get enough sleep last night?”

Morgana tried her best to fake a laugh, grateful that Emrys couldn’t see the fraudulent smile from her place behind the curtain. Unfortunately for her, the same couldn’t be said about Guinevere, who stood just behind Morgana, braiding her hair. “I suppose I was too excited to get much sleep.” She hadn’t been able to shake her ominous feeling from her nightmare all day.

“For the festival, you mean? I feel the same way. It’s a shame we weren’t able to be there for as long as we originally planned today, but a ball sounds as if it might be fun.”

Guinevere snorted as she sectioned off another part of Morgana’s hair to braid. “Might be,” she repeated.

Morgana could imagine Emrys glaring at her lady-in-waiting through the curtain. “Yet another Camelot tradition that I’ve yet to be apart of, I’m afraid.”

“Well, don’t get too excited,” Guinevere said. For a moment Morgana thought she was talking to her. “Morgana may have invited you as a guest, but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to do whatever you want. The princess could get in trouble if you attract too much attention and let people recognize you.”

Emrys stepped from behind the curtain and Morgana found herself grateful that she’d already been sitting, lest she had been brought to her knees by the sight of her maidservant. Upon her request, Emrys had changed into one of Morgana’s old dresses for the ball, but Morgana had never thought that much of the dress until now.

The luxurious rose dress flowed from top to bottom separated by a thick band of silver before opening up to elegantly reveal the simple, pale dress beneath it. More metal filigree decorated the top of the dress and under-bust. Her open sleeves were quite long on her, but hardly noticeable with the distraction provided by the refined silver caps that glittered with gems. Swags of chains draped over the sides of the arms and back.

She looked more like a warrior priestess than ever before.

As if Emrys was feeling the same way, she picked up the edge of the dress and said, “I don’t see how I could _not_ attract attention with this. But I will say that I can hardly recognize myself in this dress.”

“Yes,” Guinevere mused, “hopefully a mask will be enough to keep the others from identifying you. At least not immediately. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt if you strayed away from dancing.”

Emrys directed a frown over Morgana’s head at the other girl. “Are you afraid I’ll steal all the dances from you if I were to actually attend the ball, Guinevere?”

“Hardly. There are never any desirable men at these things.”

Emrys’ eyebrows came together in confusion. “And what about Arthur?”

Morgana locked eyes with Guinevere in the mirror. The princess tried to keep her voice light as she spoke, “Don’t tell me you find _Arthur_ desirable, Emrys.”

“I was just wondering if he’d be there,” she said quickly. “It’s not as if I’ll be waiting for a dance from him.”

“You shouldn’t—Arthur’s a terrible dancer.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but Morgana didn’t think she had seen her brother dance with anyone since they were young kids.

Emrys came to stand beside Morgana, mesmerized by Guinevere’s braiding. “I’d bet anything you’re a fantastic dancer, princess.”

“The best,” Guinevere confirmed as she finished decorating the braids into an elegant updo. She gave Morgana a piteous look and said, “If you’ll allow it, Morgana, I think I’ll head back to my own chambers now to finish preparing myself. I assume Emrys will be capable enough to finish tending to the princess?”

A smile pulled on the corners of Morgana’s mouth, who almost too eagerly said, “Of course! You’re dismissed, Guinevere. Thank you for your help.”

While Emrys strung up the back of Morgana’s haltered dress, the princess busied herself with the two masks on her vanity. She glanced up at herself in the mirror, smiling at the sparkling image of both the girls in their dresses.

“May I ask why you invited me, princess?”

“Emrys, you must remember to call me Morgana, at least for tonight,” Morgana insisted. “We will never be able to pass you off as a distant princess if you don’t try to act like one.”

Emrys snorted. “I’m still not convinced everyone won’t immediately recognize me. I mean, I’m not nearly as demure as I need to be to convince people _I’m_ actually a princess.”

“Nonsense. You’ll do just fine for the evening.”

“But why even do it at all?”

She turned around to face Emrys, her breath hitching for a moment as she realized how close their faces were. In an attempt to give herself something to do other than stare at the girl, Morgana tied the silver mask to Emrys’ face. “I just want to have a little fun, is all. You heard Guinevere—there’s never anyone desirable at these things. You’re the only person who ever brings any excitement to Camelot and I didn’t want you to spend the night working the event.”

Emrys plucked the golden mask from Morgana’s hand and, stepping forward, reached up towards the princess’ neck. She tied the strands of the mask around the back of Morgana’s head, all the while seemingly unaware of how fidgety Morgana had become. When she had finished tying the mask, Emrys did not step away.

“Tonight,” she whispered, “that will no longer be true. Tonight, someone else will bring some fun to Camelot.”

 

~

 

“Morgana, if you keep fidgeting, the others are bound to realize you’re up to something,” Guinevere hissed sharply in the princess’ ear.

Morgana took a deep breath and tried her best to steady her palms in her dress. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“What on _earth_ would _you_ have to be nervous about,” Arthur asked as he sauntered up beside the pair. He slid a glance at their father, who was busy greeting a group of lords by the dining tables. “You’re not the one who’s being forced to dance with all the guests tonight.”

“Yes,” said Guinevere, “well, I’m afraid that’s just one of the formalities that comes with being the future king. And for your information, your sister is merely anxious to finally meet a princess from the one of the estates in Essetir with whom she’s been exchanging letters.”

At this, Arthur raised an eyebrow at his sister. “I never knew you’d been writing letters to a princess in Cenred’s kingdom, Morgana.”

Morgana turned and gave Arthur a pointed look. “Yes, well, it was something I _used_ to have Emrys do for me. That is, until you so impulsively sacked her.”

Arthur cast down his head and busied himself with one of the buttons on his red jacket. “I admit I may have let my anger get the best of me earlier, but I’ve taken steps to remedy this. I’ve just sent Reuben with a letter informing Emrys that she may remain in the castle as your handmaiden.”

Morgana’s insides burned with indignation. “But not as part of the Royal Guard?”

“Emrys has proven herself to be too headstrong to obey orders and too proud to seek help from those beside her when her stubbornness has misled her. I can’t allow someone who defies me like that to serve as part of the Royal Guard.”

She turned to him fully, suddenly not recognizing the man who stood before her. Arthur swept the entirety of the Market Square under his cool blue gaze before returning his steely eyes to Morgana. He had always been like their father in looks, but in that moment, she felt as if the two now shared personalities.

“So this is how you want to rule,” she asked him in a whisper. “You want to surround yourself only with people who have opinions that already agree with yours, like our father is in the habit of doing?”

“Morgana,” Guinevere hissed.

“Our father,” said Arthur as he squared his shoulders at his sister, “is a good king, Morgana. I can only hope that I will be one as well.”

“Well, I had hoped that you would want to be a better one.”

“Morgana,” Guinevere said again, this time prodding the girl to get her attention. When the princess turned around to look at her, she nodded her head in the direction of the main gate.

Even before Morgana had turned around, even before the guard had made his announcement of the young woman’s arrival, she knew what she would be seeing. Still, she was not prepared for the sight of Emrys underneath the warm glow of the festival lights.

Emrys had been right: she _did_ attract a lot of attention. As if her darkened skin did not already stick out in this type of crowd, the mask did nothing but add to the mystery of her character, already enticing some of the knights to approach her.

Arthur drew in a sharp breath and placed a hand over his stomach. “Is that—“

“The princess from Essetir, yes,” said Guinevere quickly. She pushed Morgana in the direction of Emrys. “Excuse us, Arthur, but I’m afraid we must go attend to her before your knights get the best of her.”

Morgana tried to keep her voice calm as she crossed the room. “This was a mistake, Guinevere. I never should’ve done this. Everyone’s going to realize this is Emrys.”

“Not if we play our parts well and we get the others to do the same,” Guinevere insisted.

Morgana frowned as Arthur’s knights, led by a particularly flirtatious Gwaine, beat them to Emrys, their faces alight with curiosity. “Sir Gwaine,” she yelled, in an effort to attract his attention.

He glanced briefly in her direction before returning his full attention back to Emrys, who had tucked her chin into her chest to obscure the bottom half of her face. “Good evening, Princess. If you’ve come to ask me for a dance, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait. I was just about to promise my first dance to this stunning beauty right here.”

Morgana watched Emrys try to press her lips together to contain what would have been an unmistakably “Emrys” laugh. She hoped that she wouldn’t have to bring the knights into the ruse with her—she wanted to keep her secret princess’ identity all to herself.

“I’m afraid dancing will have to wait,” she said, positioning herself between him and Emrys. “This is a dear friend of mine from Essetir and I’m sure she would like to rest and catch up with me before accepting any requests to dance.”

Gwaine sidestepped her and took Emrys’ hand in his. “I never knew Essetir had such beautiful women. If I had known you were there, milady, I would have joined the last envoy we sent there. Before I reluctantly release you, pray tell me what is your name and when might we see each other again?”

This time, Emrys couldn’t seem to stop herself from laughing, snorting as Gwaine kissed the back of her hand. He snapped his head up and jerked his hand back, realization dawning upon him. “Oh, I think we see enough of each other already, _Sir_ Gwaine.”

Morgana groaned. So much for keeping her identity a secret.

Percival let out a huge laugh and clapped a chortling Lancelot on the back. “He really didn’t recognize her!”

“You knew,” cried Gwaine and Morgana at the same time.

“Of course,” said Percival. He looked to Lancelot for confirmation. “I just thought it was another one of Emrys’ games. Only an idiot wouldn’t be able to recognize our little wench.”

Gwaine pinched the bridge of his nose. “In my defense, Emrys has never been dressed up like this before. And in this dimmed lighting, anyone could _easily_ think she was someone else.”

“No, I think Percival had it right,” said Lancelot, a wicked smile across his face. “Only an idiot wouldn’t have recognized her.”

Gwaine dismissed them with a wave of his hand and turned back to carefully inspect Emrys this time. “I can’t believe I wasted my best lines on _you_.”

“I’m sure the other ladies will consider themselves lucky,” said Lancelot with a snicker. “But, _you_ , Emrys—you’re always full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” said a surly Reuben as he and Silas joined the edge of the group. “She certainly is, I’m afraid.”

This was it. Morgana could see the end of all her plans for tonight unraveling. It would only be a matter of time before Arthur or Uther himself became curious and made their ways over there to investigate for themselves.

Silas crossed his arms, frowning at Emrys. “You never cease to amaze me! I thought I told you no more festival activities. And with your strained relationship with the prince—”

“Please, Silas, Reuben,” said Morgana quickly, “don’t be mad at Emrys. She only came because I asked her to. I knew it would be difficult for her with Arthur here, but I invited her anyway.”

Silas glanced between Morgana and Emrys before sighing in defeat. “Fine. Since I’ve walked all this way, I will stay for the festivities, at least to ensure that you do not do anything even more reckless than this, Emrys.”

Emrys beamed at the old man as she said, “Thank you so much, Uncle! I’ll be sure not to attract too much attention. You won’t even know I’m here, I promise.”

“It’s a little too late for that, I’m afraid,” Reuben mumbled as he looked around the crowd, most of whom were still enticed by the scene. “And what will you do if—Arthur!”

Morgana spun around to see her brother, who froze as everyone in the group turned to stare at him. He shook off the strangeness of the situation and focused his gaze on his manservant. “Ah, Reuben, were you able to find your sister?”

Morgana felt her mouth drop down in surprise. She was almost certain Arthur had recognized Emrys when she had arrived, but, standing so close to her disguise now, he didn’t seem to be the wiser.

Percival really _had_ been right.

“I’m afraid,” said Silas, breaking the silence of the group, “my niece has…disappeared, sire.”

Arthur grunted in response and gave the physician a solemn nod. “I’m sure she’ll turn up eventually. In the meantime, Morgana, I’m here to introduce myself to your friend. Father is very pleased that you extended an invitation to someone from Essetir, especially with Lord Bayard being here.”

Morgana had completely forgotten that Lord Bayard, their primary contact in the Kingdom of Essetir, had plans to finish minor peace negotiations with their father during tonight’s celebrations. No doubt the king and the lord would eventually become curious in the rumored princess from Essetir.

She tried to block Arthur as he took a step toward Emrys, who thankfully had the sense to stay behind Morgana. “I’m sorry, Arthur, but you’ll have to wait. You see, the princess has just….She’s already—“

“She’s just sorted out whom she’ll give her first dance to between the three of them,” said Guinevere as she stepped forward. “And I’d say they’ve kept her waiting long enough. Perhaps she’ll save you one for after she’s done with Gwaine.”

“Hang on,” cried Gwaine, face flushed with anger. “Why am _I_ last?”

Arthur waved a dismissive hand at Gwaine and reached for Emrys as Percival pulled her closer to him, covering her face. “Be reasonable, Percival. You can’t seriously expect me to wait, especially not after Gwaine. No one will get a chance to talk to her after he’s done chatting her ear off.”

“I’m sorry, sire, but if you’ll excuse us…” He turned Emrys away from the group, then, leading her to the middle of the square.

This time it was Morgana who reached out for Emrys, a protest on her lips as the serving girl glanced back at her. Guinevere cleared her throat and gave Morgana a pointed look. Morgana knew that this was supposed to be a blessing. Still, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She pressed her lips together and clasped her hands into the folds of her dress. “I suppose I won’t get to have you to myself tonight,” she whispered as Percival slowly led Emrys into a dance.

Beside her, she heard Arthur mutter, “Her eyes…”

Reuben exchanged a glance with Silas before asking, “What about them, sire?”

He shook his head. “I must be going insane. I’m starting to see her everywhere, even where she’s not.”

Morgana breathed deeply and exhaled a soft sigh. She could certainly relate. She opened her mouth and said, “Are you going to stand here the entire time? I thought Father wanted you to _entertain_ the other guests.”

As Lancelot excused himself to switch positions with Percival, taking his turn to twirl an awestruck Emrys back and forth, Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Suddenly, I don’t want to do that anymore.”

She reached out for him then, her anger washing away to make room for compassion as she grabbed his hand. She wanted to tell him that she understood his pain, knew the depth of his emotions, but to do so would be to betray the true nature of her own feelings. So, instead, she simply squeezed his hand and hoped he would somehow understand everything her heart wanted to say.

Silas cleared his throat and stepped toward the pair. “You know, sire, in all the many years I’ve been allowed to counsel your father, I find that I have only come to regret one thing.”

As Arthur turned around to look at the physician, Morgana was reminded of the expression a much younger Arthur used to have on his face when he’d gotten himself lost in the castle. “What’s that,” he asked, sounding just as pitiful as he looked.

“That I have not done more to spur him towards forgiveness and reconciliation. Perhaps then, he wouldn’t be so prone toward his feelings of estrangement.” Silas gave the prince a grim nod and excused himself to meet with the king.

Arthur let out a long sigh and dropped his sister’s hand. “Maybe everyone is right,” he mused. “Maybe it _is_ time I talk to Emrys.”

“D-Do you really mean that, Arthur,” asked Morgana.

“Of course,” he said. “I thought you’d be happier about this, Morgana.”

“Well, you haven’t necessarily had the best record when it comes to talking to Emrys,” said Guinevere. “What are you even planning to say to her?”

The prince sighed and ran a hand over his slicked back hair, freeing some of his golden strands. “I don’t know, but I know I need to say _something_. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, tell her I’ll wait until she does. No one can stay mad forever, right? Not even Emrys?”

Gwaine clapped a hand onto the prince’s shoulder and gave him a grim smile. “For your sake, your highness, I surely hope not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a princess to dance with.” He shared a knowing look with Morgana before striding toward Emrys.

“Come to think of it,” Arthur mused, “why are _you_ still standing here, Morgana? You’re normally quite popular at these things, aren’t you?”

Morgana ignored his question as she caught sight of a masked man standing across from her. She and Arthur were not the only ones who seemed to be mesmerized with Emrys.

Heavy green eyes, set sunken within their sockets, watched carefully over the serving girl as she passed from knight to knight. There was something irregular about the way this man watched Emrys, Morgana knew. Perhaps it was just his reaction to the way Emrys looked in the dress. Nonetheless, she couldn’t quite place her feelings of suspicion.

His green eyes flicked over to her suddenly, and Morgana gasped as she recognized them as the eyes from her dream.

“What’s wrong,” Arthur asked, glancing in the direction of the masked man. As he swept the crowd under his cool gaze, he didn’t seem to pick up on anything alarming. “Have you set your sights on someone?”

“Yes,” said Morgana, turning back toward Emrys, who was finally finishing up her dance with Gwaine. She hurried to her serving girl’s side, praying that she could steal her away before Arthur had the chance to realize what her intentions were.

Morgana hooked her arm through Emrys’, pulling the girl away from the crowd. She would have Emrys all to herself someway, somehow. She didn’t stop until they had reached the gardens, close enough that the princess could still see the ball attendants, but far enough that their conversations seemed like dull murmurs.

“Have you been enjoying yourself,” Morgana asked, trying to keep her voice light in spite of the heaviness she felt in her chest.

Emrys nodded her head vigorously and flashed a frenzied smile at Morgana, who felt another lump form in her throat. “I never realized you could have _this_ much fun at a dance.”

“Do they not have dances where you’re from,” Morgana asked, in an attempt to move past her heart-lump again.

“They do, but I’d hardly say they’re of this caliber.” Emrys glanced down at her dress and gently smoothed out a wrinkle. “Suffice it to say, I’ve never gotten the opportunity to dance as a princess before at our dances.”

Feeling emboldened, Morgana stepped closer to Emrys and whispered, “Then I suppose you’ve never gotten the chance to dance _with_ a princess, either.”

Emrys froze, dropping the corners of her dress to the ground. “What?”

“Come on,” said Morgana, willing her voice to be as calm as possible. “All I want to do is dance with you. What’s wrong with that?”

“Clearly,” said Emrys, laughing, “you didn’t see me dancing earlier. If you had, you wouldn’t be asking me this. I nearly flattened Percival’s foot during our dance.”

She grasped Emrys’ hand in hers and ran her fingers over the backs of her knuckles. “Dance with me, please.”

Emrys grabbed Morgana’s other hand as she said, “Okay. I’ll show you the dance I was good at in Ealdor.”

Emrys leapt backwards, laughing as she pulled a startled Morgana with her. Before Morgana could totally regain her balance, Emrys jumped to the side again. Morgana broke out into a fit of giggles as the pair continued to bounce back and forth.

It wasn’t the dance that Morgana had expected, but to see Emrys smile at her in that way made it worth it. Her feet ached from its overuse and Morgana could feel herself starting to slow down. Emrys, however, who was jumping around just as fast as she had been before, did not notice the change in the princess’ speed. Their feet collided, sending them both to the ground.

Morgana pushed herself back up into a sitting position, smiling as Emrys sat up with her. Somewhere between the fall—or maybe amongst all the jumping—Emrys’ mask had fallen off. “Is this how your dance ends in Ealdor,” Morgana asked.

“Pretty much. Grass makes for a softer landing than stone, though.” Emrys reached over suddenly and plucked a simple, yellow flower out of one of the cracks in the pavement. “You go around and around until you accept a flower from a suitor.”

Morgana swallowed a lump in her throat. “And how many flowers have you accepted at these dances, Emrys?”

Emrys laughed and pushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ears. “Only two,” she admitted. “But I’ve been offered much more than that.”

“And you’ve probably never given a flower out to anyone before, have you?”

Emrys flashed Morgana a mischievous smile and slid closer to the princess. When they were only a breath apart from each other, she held up the flower and said, “Would you like to be the first person to ever be able to say that I offered them a flower?”

Morgana desperately wished for this to be real, that, in this moment, she wouldn’t have to pretend that it was. As much as she tried to push it from her head, Morgana couldn’t help but think about her conversation with Guinevere the night before. She knew where Emrys’ feelings really lie—with Arthur, not her—but maybe, just for this night, she could allow herself to believe that, in this flower, she held Emrys’ true feelings.

Morgana gave Emrys a sweet smile as she accepted the flower with an exaggerated wave of her hand. “Finally, a decent suitor! And who would’ve expected it would be the mysterious princess from a distant land?”

“Alas,” said Emrys in a similarly drawn out fashion, “I fear I shall have to away soon before my true identity is revealed! But fear not, my princess! I will return again to rescue you from your boredom. Until then, let me leave you with something to remember me by!”

Morgana’s insides tightened as a giggling Emrys puckered her lips and leaned toward her. She wondered if she had actually started to imagine things. She held her breath as Emrys’ lips brushed gently against her own. It’d been the briefest of actions, a chaste kiss of friendship at best, and yet, Morgana felt as if all of her insides had been ignited.

Emrys beamed at Morgana, the weight of her actions obviously lost to her. Morgana tried to force herself to sound normal, but her words came out in a softly strained breath: “Emrys.”

“Emrys,” Arthur whispered incredulously, drawing both of the girls’ attentions. He stood at the entrance of the gardens, flocked by his knights, who seemed just as unsure as Arthur did. The prince took turns looking between the pair. “Please tell me this is a joke.”

Morgana rose to her feet. For once, she couldn’t seem to bring herself to look into her brother’s eyes. “Arthur—“

“Don’t.” Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose together before turning to Emrys. “Have you no respect for me at all? Is everything just another opportunity for you to embarrass me?”

Suddenly Emrys seemed to find her own voice again: “When have I embarrassed you before? Surely, you’re not talking about Faolán again? Or did you mean one of the _other_ several times I’ve saved your life?”

“That’s not—I don’t—What were you doing right now,” he sputtered, his face turning a deep shade of red.

Emrys crossed her arms, not seeming the least bit embarrassed. “I don’t see how it’s any of _your_ business what I do. Perhaps you’ve forgotten, _sire_ , but I don’t work for you anymore.”

“I’m still _your_ prince and future king,” Arthur said darkly. Morgana doubted that he still wanted to make amends with Emrys now.

“And you think that makes you entitled to have an opinion on what I do with my life?”

“If it affects me, yes,” he yelled. “You do whatever you want without any regard for how it might affect other people.”

Emrys stepped forward, away from Morgana. “It’s not like you’re any different!”

The two seemed to be drawn to each other as they argued, neither of them giving the others any room to interject their own thoughts into the fight. Even if there was a space when Morgana could’ve said something, she wasn’t sure that she would know what to say.

“Every time you do something without telling me, _I’m_ the one who has to suffer the consequences from my father,” said Arthur. “Did you think about what it would mean if he found out that you were the rumored princess of tonight? What he would do if he knew about how unprofessional you had been with Faolán?”

Emrys, exasperated, threw her arms into the air. “Why do you keep coming back to this? It was just a kiss!”

“My father won’t think it was, Emrys! _Any_ association with a person who practices magic makes you just as guilty to him. And if he had seen you with Morgana just now, he would’ve—“

Once again, Emrys didn’t seem to realize the effect her kiss had had on Morgana. “We were just having fun!”

This time it was Arthur’s turn to throw his hands in the air. “That makes no sense, Emrys! Who kisses people just for fun?”

“People who aren’t prigs like you! The way you’ve been so fixated on kissing lately, one would think that you hadn’t ever kissed someone before!”

Arthur suddenly fell silent. Even though they’d been fighting, Morgana knew that Emrys had struck a bigger nerve than she’d probably intended to. As it happened, it seemed that everyone _but_ Emrys seemed to know the depth to which she had just cut Arthur.

“Well, I-I,” Arthur sputtered, desperately grasping for something to say. He gave up on words and looked down at the ground. Morgana had seen him do this countless times growing up; it was what he did just before he started to cry.

Emrys must’ve finally realized that something was different about Arthur. In a quiet, almost curious voice, she asked, “Arthur?”

Arthur didn’t look at her. Instead, he turned around and pushed through his knights, mumbling something about returning to the ball. Lancelot glanced at Percival and Gwaine and gave a silent nod before running after Arthur.

Morgana looked over at Emrys, who had her lips and eyebrows pressed together in obvious frustration. Finally, Emrys whispered, “Is a kiss really that bad?”

Gwaine crossed his arms and peered down at the serving girl. “Oh, so it _is_ bothering you, then?”

“That’s not what I—“

“ _Emrys_.” When she fell silent, he said, “We’re the last people to judge someone else on what a kiss should mean to them. But that’s not what this is really about, is it?”

Percival grunted as he crossed his arms. “To be honest, I wish you would stop to consider your actions, too. Your rashness is only endearing up to a point.”

Emrys cast her eyes downward. “If I caused you guys trouble too, then I’m sorry. I didn’t realize everyone was suffering so much on my behalf.”

“It’s not about that either, Emrys,” said Morgana suddenly. “Surely, you see it now, what I told you before about Arthur?”

Understanding finally seemed to dawn on the serving girl. “You were all worried about me,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Gwaine waved a hand at her as he smiled. “Oh, how could I stay mad at that little face? You know I’ll forgive you, moppet!”

“I will, too,” said Percival with a grunt. “Even if you are a little dense sometimes.”

Emrys smiled at the two of them and let out a long sigh. “I suppose I should go find Arthur and actually apologize to him as well.”

Gwaine glanced back over his shoulder, scanning over the party attendants. “It might be in your best interest to do that another night, moppet. Arthur wasn’t joking when he said that it would be bad if the king discovered your true identity. Wouldn’t want you to be caught up in politics.”

“But—“

“Relax, moppet. You girls just enjoy the rest of your night. The prince will still be here tomorrow.” He nodded at Morgana and left with Percival to rejoin the ball.

“Emrys,” said Morgana tentatively, trying to gauge the silence between them. She was certain they wouldn’t be able to go back to where they’d been before they’d been discovered. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel too good,” Emrys said through gritted teeth. She clutched her stomach suddenly looked up with a gasp. “I have to find Arthur.”

“What, why?”

“I can’t explain why, but I have the feeling that he’s in danger.”

“If he is, Gwaine, Lancelot, and Percival will take care of him tonight. You heard everyone—you can’t be discovered by my father.” Morgana grabbed Emrys’ hands in hers again. “Emrys, stay. Please.”

Emrys gave Morgana a pained look and then looked back over her shoulder at where Arthur had been. In the split second before Emrys opened her mouth, Morgana realized she already knew what her maidservant was going to say: “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Reality settled over Morgana as she watched Emrys race back toward the ball. She glanced down, noticing that, at some point, she had let go of the yellow flower. Her lips no longer tingled with the electricity of Emrys’ distant kiss.

But as Morgana stood there, alone, she felt it again, that weird burning coursing through her veins. Except, this time, it was stronger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time, I know! But this chapter legitimately did not want to work with me. For those of you concerned, a resolution between Arthur and Emrys is coming...eventually. But for now, please don't forget to give me a comment letting me know what you think!


	15. The Poisoned Chalice (Arthur)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Arthur and Emrys' latest fight, a more sinister plot begins to take root.

Few things truly bothered Arthur Pendragon. Many things annoyed him, yes, and some of these things proved to be more than just minor inconveniences, but he prided himself in not being unnerved by many things.

But Emrys…She seemed to have a talent for not only finding these few things but also creating more. She couldn’t have possibly known that what she said would have him here, hiding in a distant corner, thinking about that bloody kiss again.

And neither of them could’ve known how much the memory of that kiss—of how tenderly Faolán had held her, of how soft Emrys’ gaze had been when she pulled back—would be tormenting Arthur at that moment.

Frustration stung the backs of his eyelids, but Arthur tilted his head up. He refused to cry over a serving girl.

“Figured you wouldn’t be too far away from the ball,” said Lancelot suddenly, drawing Arthur’s attention. “Mind if I join you, sire?”

Arthur shrugged, but made no attempt to dissuade the knight from joining him. “Can you believe she said that,” Arthur asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” said Lancelot immediately. “In fact, I would’ve expected nothing less from her. I’m surprised, sire, that you weren’t more prepared for that.”

Arthur scoffed and looked over his shoulder, back towards the party attendants. “Stop pretending that anyone could ever hope to be prepared for anything Emrys might say or do.”

Lancelot let out a long sigh before he asked, “Sire, you aren’t still upset about the kiss, are you?”

“It _just_ happened, so—“

“I’m not talking about the one between the girls. Everyone, including your father, knows that women have different understandings of intimacy between friends. I’m talking about the one that started all of this—the one with the sorcerer.”

Arthur felt his face burning from embarrassment. His father had always warned him against being easy to read, but Arthur had yet to master the act of concealing his emotions. “It’s not about the kiss.”

Lancelot raised an eyebrow at the prince. “Are you sure, sire? Because your reactions toward all of this have been—“

“I know what you’re going to say, and I’m _not_ jealous,” Arthur insisted.

“The sky is pink.”

“What?”

“Forgive me, sire. I thought we were both stating obvious lies.”

Arthur turned away from the knight, more upset that he’d been so easy to read. “Thanks for the talk, Lancelot.”

Exasperated, Lancelot threw his hands in the hair. “Why won’t you just admit that you care about her?”

“Because,” said Arthur, turning back to him, “if I don’t care, she can’t hurt me.” And with that, Arthur felt another stinging behind his eyes. He glared down at the cobbled floor beneath him, ashamed that he was on the brink of tears in front of one of his knights.

Lancelot put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “It's not like Emrys is trying to hurt you, sire.”

“Well, that hasn't stopped her from doing so already.” Arthur’s throat tightened as he caught sight of a frantic Emrys in the crowd. He knew without a doubt what she was looking for: him. She risked exposure to his father and the many repercussions that that would entail, and still, there she was, looking for him.

Despite his current feelings, the desire Arthur felt right then to run to her and steal her away from everyone else was overwhelming. He started to take a step forward but then decided against it.

“So,” said Lancelot, who had carefully been watching the prince, “you’re not going to say anything? Now would be your best chance.”

“No,” said Arthur definitively, more to himself than Lancelot.

“Well, I think you should. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Arthur opened his mouth to say something against Lancelot, but stopped, distracted by a serving girl who had managed to bring Emrys to a standstill. Arthur didn’t recognize the servant, but assumed it was simply someone from Bayard’s household. Still, he stood there, mesmerized as the two shared a few hushed words between each other before running off somewhere.

Arthur threw a glare over his shoulder at a smug Lancelot and muttered, “I do _not_ regret it.”

Lancelot smiled back at him cheekily. “Whatever you say, sire.”

The music suddenly stopped, drawing Arthur’s attention back to the crowd, which had also fallen silent. He suddenly had the feeling that something was very wrong. Arthur stepped forward, fear and worry for Emrys drove out any sense of irritation he’d felt toward her earlier. But he got no more than a couple of feet away from Lancelot before his father called out, “There you are, Arthur!”

The prince was painfully aware of all the eyes that were on him in that moment. He glanced around for Emrys, torn between looking for her and giving his attention to his father. The latter winning, he turned toward the king and forced his face into a grimace as he went to stand beside his father.

Uther clapped one hand down on Arthur’s shoulder and extended the other one out toward the stout man beside him. “Lord Bayard and I think that we’ve finally been able to come to an agreement about a partnership between our estates. I thought it would be appropriate for you to join us in a toast.”

Complacent obedience slipped out of Arthur before he knew what he was saying: “Of course.”

Lord Bayard waved over a masked servant, who was carrying a small box. He turned his small eyes to Arthur and gave a quick nod of acknowledgement. “I thought such an occasion would arrive, so I took the liberty of having these ceremonial goblets made for you, Uther, and your son.”

Arthur took the silver goblet from the masked servant without thinking much about the gesture. But when his gaze flickered to the stranger in front of him, Arthur was surprised to find that the servant’s mouth was turned up into a smug grin.

From the side corner of his eye, Arthur saw Reuben morph out of the shadows of the crowd. His manservant held a jug of wine in his hands and took Arthur’s goblet to fill it. Arthur wanted to say something to Reuben about the masked servant, but he wasn’t sure what to say, not when he couldn’t quite place the reason for his apprehension. Still, he felt that there was something all too familiar about this masked man.

A polite nudge from Reuben brought Arthur out of his thoughts, just in time to catch the end of Bayard’s complimentary toast: “To our newfound friendship. May it last—“

“Stop,” cried Emrys as she rushed through the crowd. All the eyes that Arthur had previously felt on him were now on her.

“What is the meaning of this,” Bayard sputtered.

Emrys, undeterred, turned unabashedly toward Uther. “Your Majesty, Arthur’s chalice has been poisoned.”

“Emrys,” Reuben hissed, “what are you doing?”

“Bayard laced Arthur’s goblet with poison.”

The accused lord reached for his sword, but was met with the unsheathed swords of several knights, the first of which was Arthur’s. “This is an outrage,” Bayard cried.

Uther, calm as ever, turned his steel gaze to Bayard. “Order your men to put down their swords,” he commanded. He gestured to several dozens of other knights of Camelot as they entered the square. “You are outnumbered.”

Bayard faltered, but only slightly. “I will not allow this insult to go unchallenged.”

Uther seemed to consider this as he turned his full attention to Emrys, who at least had the sense to be nervous. “You, girl—on what grounds do you base this accusation?”

Arthur opened his mouth, but with a withering glare, his father silenced him.

“He was seen lacing it,” she told him.

“Seen by whom?”

Emrys dipped her head and said in a condemned whisper, “I can’t say.”

“This is outrageous,” yelled Bayard again, his fat face turning a deep shade of red. “I won’t listen to this any longer.”

“Pass me the goblet,” Uther said, to which Reuben obliged with shaking hands. He walked towards Bayard as he looked at the cup in question. “If you are telling the truth—“

“I am,” said Bayard immediately.

Uther met the lord’s eyes with such ferocity that even Arthur felt the need to step back. Somehow, Bayard managed not to move, his jaw flexing beneath his beard. “Then you have nothing to fear, do you?”

Bayard sheathed his sword and motioned for the king to pass him the cup. But, to Arthur’s surprise, Uther shook his head. “No. If this does prove to be poison, I want the pleasure of killing you myself.”

Arthur knew where his father would be going with this even before Uther turned back to look at Emrys. “No, Father! Emrys is our only advantage against magic. If it is poison, she’ll die! You can’t—“

“Then we’ll know she was telling the truth,” said Uther coldly.

“And when she lives,” Bayard demanded.

Uther shrugged. “Then you will have my apologies and can do with her what you see fit.”

“Please, sire,” Silas begged, “she’s just a girl. She doesn’t understand what she’s saying.”

“Then you should’ve schooled her better,” said Uther as he held out the chalice to Emrys. “Drink.”

“Emrys, apologize,” Arthur ordered, though he knew that she wouldn’t. She had the same look in her eyes that she’d had when he’d told her to step away from Faolán—it meant her mind was already made up. “This is just a mistake, and I’ll prove it. _I’ll_ drink it, Father.”

He made for the cup, but in one fluid motion, Emrys snatched it out of the king’s hand and bent her head back, downing its contents in several deep draws. Every eye was on her she brought the goblet down, but there was something triumphant about Bayard’s look, especially as more time passed without any effect.

“Well,” Arthur asked, not sure which answer he dreaded hearing the most.

“It’s…fine,” Emrys said in quiet confusion.

Uther waved his hand to Bayard. “She’s all yours.”

As the knights started to lower their swords and the rest of the crowd started to calm down, Arthur caught sight of the masked servant, whose face seemed wrecked with distraught. As green eyes met blue, Arthur realized who he was looking at: Faolán. All at once, Arthur felt a sense of dread hit his stomach.

Emrys suddenly threw both of her hands to her throat and began to gasp and choke. Tearfully, she locked eyes with Arthur and tried to say something to him. But all that came out was a rasping sound.

She collapsed to the floor and several people called out her name, the loudest of which was Reuben. As Uther yelled for Bayard’s arrest, Reuben cradled his sister’s head in his arms and whispered, “No, Emrys. Not like this.”

Silas pushed his way through the crowd and pressed the back of his hand against Emrys’ sweating forehead. “Emrys, my girl, can you hear me?”

Arthur felt as if his world was spinning. Still, his feet moved him until he was beside Emrys. He was only vaguely aware of what was going around him—more yelling from his father, Reuben crying, and Emrys, for once, quiet.

“Arthur,” said Silas suddenly, firmly. “We have to get her back to my chambers. Reuben, bring the goblet! We need it to identify the poison.”

Without any hesitation, Arthur heaved Emrys into his arms, her weight taxing but nothing he couldn’t handle. It was a different sensation than the last time he’d held her in his arms, when she’d taken a dagger in the thigh for him. Instead of looking at him in muted defiance, her head lolled back over his arm. He shifted her weight as he hurried to Silas’ chambers so that her head rest in the gentle crook beneath his shoulder.

 _Don’t let her die_ , he pleaded, though to whom he was unsure. _She can’t die. Please, not now._

Arthur looked into Emrys’ face as he lay her down on one of the cots in Silas’ chambers. His hand shook as he brushed some loose strands of her hair behind her ear. “H-her brow’s on fire.”

“Keep her cool,” Silas ordered as he slipped his glasses on and grabbed the cup from Reuben. “It will help control the fever.”

“She’s going to be alright, isn’t she,” he asked Silas, who was so preoccupied with the goblet that he didn’t answer.

“There’s something stuck in it,” Silas said absentmindedly, “a flower petal of some kind.” He picked up the petal and held it up to the light for inspection.

Reuben sunk down on the other side of the cot and pressed a cool rag against Emrys’ sweating forehead. Arthur reached for Emrys’ hand but shrunk away from her when Reuben turned a withering glare in the prince’s direction. Normally, he would’ve said something about Reuben’s look, but he understood where his manservant’s animosity came from.

The poison had been meant for him, Arthur was sure of it. And yet, even knowing that, Emrys had willingly drunk from the goblet anyway. Arthur had always been told that people around him might be called to give their lives for him, but he’d never expected—nor wanted—Emrys to be one of those people.

Arthur turned away from Emrys to find that Silas was furiously searching through a large tome. “The petal comes from the mortaeus flower,” said the old man. “It says here that someone who ingests the mortaeus flower can only be saved by a potion made from the leaf of the very same flower.”

“Then we will find it,” Arthur said immediately.

Silas turned the page. “Apparently it can only be found deep within the forest of Balon, on the leaves of the mortaeus tree.”

“Balon,” Arthur mused, his mind racing. “That’s only a day or two’s ride from here, isn’t it?”

Silas gave a grim nod and said, “Yes, but we have no idea what could be out there waiting for you, sire.”

“I do,” said Arthur darkly. “Faolán. I saw him at the party tonight. He knew about the poison when Emrys talked about it.”

Silas slammed his fist down on the book. “Which means that it might not have been Bayard who laced the goblet. It also means Faolán probably knows that this is the only place to go for the antidote. You’d be walking right into his hands.”

Arthur glanced back at Emrys as her breathing suddenly became more labored, her chest heaving underneath an invisible weight. She hadn’t hesitated when faced with death and neither would he. Arthur sucked his breath in through his teeth and said, “Sounds like fun.”

“Arthur, no, it’s much too dangerous,” said Silas, momentarily snapping out of his anger. “The chances of survival are minimal, even if Faolán isn’t there waiting for you. At this stage, there’s no point—“

“If I don’t go and get the antidote, she’ll die, won’t she,” Arthur asked, forcing himself to say the words out loud.

The old man glanced over at Emrys before turning solemnly back towards the prince. “If left untreated, the mortaeus flower induces a slow and painful death. She’ll have four, maybe five days, but not much longer. Eventually, she _will_ die.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Arthur definitively. “I’ll find the antidote to this poison and I’ll bring it back in time.”

Arthur made his way back toward Emrys, sitting opposite of Reuben again. “I’m sorry,” he said to his manservant. “I never wanted this to happen, Reuben. But I’m going to fix it, I will.”

Reuben furiously wiped away a tear and stood up. “That’s a nice sentiment, Arthur, but my sister’s fate was already decided a long time ago.”

Arthur lifted his chin as he said, “Well, I owe it to her to at least try.”

Reuben chuckled mirthlessly and slumped across the room to grab more rags. “She’s fought against this her whole life, and she still ended up here.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what Reuben had meant by that, but he didn’t want to waste any more time in Silas’ chambers. He grabbed Emrys’ hand and brought it to his lips. “Please,” he whispered. “I need you to be okay. I…care about you. More than you know. More than I’m willing to admit.”

 _Oh, Arthur_ …

Arthur snapped his head toward Emrys. He knew it’d been her voice that he’d heard just now. But when he looked, Emrys was still breathing heavily. He looked around, wondering who had called out to him.

Emrys’ breath hitched again in her chest, refocusing Arthur. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not when Emrys’ life was on the line.

 

~

 

“What is the point in having someone test your food for poison if you’re just going to get yourself killed anyway,” Uther asked.

“I won’t just let her die, Father,” said Arthur. The king had caught him on his reentry to the castle and was _not_ pleased to hear Arthur’s plan.

“Arthur,” said Uther as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “you are my only son and heir. I won’t risk losing you for the sake of a serving girl.”

“Because her life is worthless?”

Uther turned on his son. “No. Because her life is worth _less_ than yours.”

Arthur crossed his arms to keep from doing anything he might regret. “Father,” he said in a calmer voice, “I can save her. Let me take some men—“

“No.”

“—we’ll find the antidote, bring it back—“

“I said no,” Uther yelled.

Arthur stepped forward, squaring his shoulders at his father in an unspoken challenge. “Why _not_?”

“Because, Arthur,” said Uther, “one day I will be dead and Camelot will need a king! I’m not going to let you jeopardize the future of this kingdom over this girl. You’ve grown much too attached to this _servant_ , Arthur.”

“She’s saved my life countless times,” Arthur implored. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Uther turned his cold eyes onto his son. “No,” he grit out as he started to turn away from Arthur, who reached out and grabbed the cuff of his father’s sleeve.

“I can’t just stand by and watch her die,” Arthur yelled.

Uther leaned in as he said in a low voice, “Then don’t look. She won’t be the last to die on your behalf. You’re going to be king, Arthur—it’s something you’ll have to get used to.”

Arthur found himself taking steps backward as he shook his head. “I can’t accept that.”

“You’re not going,” said Uther simply.

“You can’t stop me—“

“Damn it, Arthur, that’s an end to it! You’re not leaving this castle tonight,” Uther ordered. Then the king turned on his heels and walked down the rest of the corridor.

 

~

 

Arthur’s hands froze in his bag as someone knocked on his door. It was probably another servant sent to check on him. Exasperated, Arthur yelled, “I wish to be alone!”

“It’s me,” said Morgana as she opened the door.

“Did you see her,” he asked, knowing that he wouldn’t have to elaborate.

“I kept thinking that she would get up at any moment,” said Morgana in a whisper, “that she would pop up and laugh like this was all a joke. I want this to be a joke so badly.”

Arthur swallowed back a lump in his throat. “Me too,” he admitted.

Morgana crossed the room and put her hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “What did Father say?”

Arthur shoved more things into his bag. “It doesn’t matter what he said.”

Morgana gave her brother a grim smile and nodded toward his provisions bag. “Ah, so, then, when do we leave?”

“We? Morgana, no,” he said, shaking his head. He realized then that she had changed out of her dress and pulled back her hair. “ _You’re_ not going. It’s too dangerous.”

She leveled him with a glare. “When I was poisoned, did Emrys sit there and wait for you to come back with the antidote?”

Arthur strung up the bag and slung it over his shoulder as he turned to look at his sister. “This is different, Morgana. When Father finds out I’ve left, I’ll be lucky if he only decides to put me in the stocks. If I take you with me—“

“Spare me the lecture, Arthur—I’ve already heard it from Guinevere and neither of you are going to change my mind about going.” She placed her hand on his shoulder and looked earnestly into his eyes. “I’m also worried about you. I know how much this is probably affecting you and we all know how well you make decisions when you’re overwhelmed by your emotions.”

“I’m fine,” he said immediately, gruffly.

Morgana raised an eyebrow at him, clearly unmoved by his statement. “I don’t believe that for a second. You’re not even bringing your knights.”

“It’s not like you ever believed they can protect me anyway,” he pointed out. “Besides, I need them here, in case someone comes back for her.”

Morgana smiled at him and lifted her ponytail to reveal that she had already packed her own bag. “Which is exactly why I’ll be coming with you. With them here, you’ll need someone to watch your back.”

“There’s really no talking you out of this, is there,” said Arthur as he let out a long sigh.

“Not a chance,” Morgana said. “Besides, don’t pretend like you haven’t missed going on adventures with your sister.”

Arthur couldn’t help but smile at the memories of the two storming through the kingdom, armed with wooden swords and carrying burlap sacks over their shoulders. Their father had tried to keep them in the castle, but somehow Morgana and Arthur had always found a way out together.

“I certainly didn’t miss all those times I had to come to your rescue,” he teased.

She pushed at his shoulder and made her way toward the back of his chambers. She still knew the secret way out of his room. “You’re remembering things wrong, Arthur.”

He reached out and grabbed his sister’s elbow. “Well, I know I _do_ remember why you stopped going. This is your last chance to decide to stay before Father finds out.”

Morgana lifted her chin at him and threw her shoulders back. “Sometimes you’ve got to do what you think is right and damn the consequences, especially when what you stand to lose is much too great.”

Arthur glanced out of his window, over the remnants of the earlier celebration. He couldn’t make out the full house, but he knew that the flickering light in the distant servants’ section was Emrys. For a moment, the light seemed to dim entirely, before suddenly returning with a brighter fervor. It spurred Arthur into action, sending him rushing from the room, down the secret staircase.

Damn the consequences, indeed. He wouldn’t allow Emrys to die for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end of the Faolán arch! Hopefully I can get this next chapter out relatively quick. But until then, leave a comment letting me know what you think so far! I love hearing from you guys!


	16. The Veil (Emrys)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emrys wakes up in the Veil to discover that she's been poisoned and that she's running out of time to find her way back.

The last thing Emrys heard was Arthur shouting her name.

When she opened her eyes again, she was standing in front of the prince, wondering why he was staring silently at her. “What,” she asked as she looked down at herself. From what she could see, nothing seemed to be wrong with her. “I guess there was nothing wrong with—“

_Emrys, my girl, can you hear me?_

Emrys whipped her head around at the slightly muffled sound of her uncle’s voice and gasped at what she saw: her brother cradling her head in his arms. Horrified by the sight, Emrys stepped forward and peered into her own face. As she watched her body struggle to breathe, Emrys recognized a faint, burning sensation in her chest.

 _Arthur, we have to get her back to my chambers,_ said Silas. _Reuben, bring the goblet! We need it to identify the poison._

Emrys stood in place, frozen, as she watched Arthur carry her body away from the crowd. “Am I dead,” she whispered.

“Not quite,” said another voice, drawing her attention. Emrys wasn’t sure if she was relieved or annoyed with Baelfire as he materialized beside her. “Though it seems as if that was what you wanted.”

“I-I was just trying to protect Arthur. I didn’t have time to think.” Emrys shook her head as she glanced back at where her body had first been. “What is this?”

Baelfire spread his arms through the air and looked around, though Emrys wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at. “This is the Veil, the space between the Otherworld and yours, the living and the dead.”

“Space between the living and the dead,” Emrys mused. She placed her hands on hips and breathed against the weight of all the information she was trying to process. “If that’s true, then why are _you_ here? I know it’s not because you’re concerned for me.”

Baelfire shook his head and glanced around the remaining party guests. “Believe it or not, I don’t have many things to pass my time with. I figured this was more interesting than watching from afar as I normally do.”

Emrys glared at him. “Well, don’t let your loneliness distract you from helping _me_ get out of here. I don’t want to be stuck here.”

“And yet,” said Baelfire, “here we are.”

Emrys let out a long sigh and turned toward Silas’ chambers. “I don’t have time for your riddles. I need to figure out a way to get back.”

Baelfire grabbed her hand and suddenly they were with her body again in Silas’ chambers. He let go of her and moved toward Silas to read out of his book. “The way out is simple—you live through this. But I won’t lie to you, little sorceress, things do not look too well for you.”

Emrys was only half-listening at that point, mesmerized by the sight of herself again. She reached out and stroked her own cheek, the action feeling completely unfamiliar to her. She didn’t even notice that Arthur was sitting beside her until she felt the warmth of his kiss on her hand.

 _Please_ , he whispered, _I need you to be okay. I…care about you. More than you know. More than I’m willing to admit._

Emrys’ next breath was heartache, longing to be able to respond to him. Her hand absentmindedly found its way to her necklace. “Oh, Arthur…”

His head jerked up suddenly, and, for a moment, Emrys thought he had heard her. She waved both hands in front of him and shouted his name, but he didn’t respond after that. Still, she was almost certain he had heard her.

“The necklace,” said Baelfire. He was peering at her from across the room, his gaze fixated on the necklace. “It connects you and Arthur.”

She grabbed her necklace again and thumbed it over. Using it could expose her magic, but what if it was her only way out of the Veil? Emrys decided that she could always find an excuse later.

As Arthur stood up and rushed out of the room, Emrys tightened her fist around her necklace and yelled, “Arthur!”

But he didn’t stop this time, didn’t even seem to hear her.

Emrys turned on Baelfire and held the necklace up to him. “I thought you said this connects us? Why can’t he hear me now?”

Baelfire shrugged as he said, “No one has all the answers to everything, Emrys.”

Emrys was about to say something but stopped when she felt the room’s atmosphere shift around her. Suddenly, she was in the middle of a new conversation between Silas, Morgana, and Lancelot. On the other side of the room, Reuben and Guinevere were giving Gwaine and Percival instructions on how to help take care of Emrys’ body, which had been stripped down to her night slip.

“What was that,” Emrys asked as she looked toward Baelfire.

Baelfire strode over to Emrys’ side as he reevaluated the room. “Time passes differently here—the less you have, the faster things go.”

“How much more time do I have?”

He shushed her and nodded toward Lancelot.

 _I didn’t get much information from Arthur_ , said the knight in a gruff whisper, _but he said that he was going to talk to his father about getting the antidote for Emrys._

Silas shook his head. _The king will never allow it._

With a stiff jaw, Morgana turned to look at Emrys’ body. She crossed her arms as she said, _I thought Arthur said that Faolán was infatuated with Emrys. Why would he poison her?_

Emrys stopped paying attention to the conversation and turned back to Baelfire. “ _Faolán_ poisoned me? That serving girl said that she had seen Bayard lacing Arthur’s goblet.”

Baelfire pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “I wonder how many lifetimes it will take you to lose this cursed naivety. Faolán mentioned his teacher, did he not? Do you think it is a coincidence that _you_ were the one chosen to be warned about the poison?”

“Are you saying that this Nimueh…she was the one who warned me earlier tonight?” She looked back at herself and clenched up her fist, certain that fire would engulf it at any moment.

Baelfire raised an eyebrow at her. “Your magic won’t work here the way you’re used to, at least, not without something to draw from.”

“Of course that would be the case,” Emrys said. “And Faolán probably knew that as well. When I get out of here, I’m going to find Faolán, and I’m going to kill him.”

“An interesting statement to make,” Baelfire noted as his lips pulled up into an amused grin. He peered into her face in that habit he was so used to doing and Emrys felt her resolve leave her even before Baelfire said, “But I fear it’s only empty words. You will not be the one to kill the pathetic baker’s apprentice.”

“Who will?”

Baelfire fell silent as Morgana ordered Guinevere to stay with Emrys’ body. The room blurred again, shifting Emrys and Baelfire into morning that had fallen over those who remained in the room—Silas, Reuben, and Guinevere. Outside now, there was a soft murmuring, which Emrys assumed was a conversation between the three knights. Emrys’ body still lay on the cot; she had lost so much color in her face that Emrys hardly recognized herself.

“How many days have passed,” Emrys asked frantically. “How much time do I still have left?” She rushed to the window to try to get a sense of things, but found nothing helpful. Panic rose within her as her surroundings began to shift again. “No, please,” she begged.

This time, when Emrys opened her eyes, she was in darkness. For a moment, she thought she was dead, trapped without even Baelfire to keep her company.

 _Emrys,_ someone whispered behind her, the voice soft but clearer than the other voices she’d heard.

She spun around, freezing when she realized she was now in front of Faolán. Her relief at being seen by anyone still alive paled in comparison to the amount of anger she felt by seeing him.

 _You’re dead,_ he said. It was not a question.

She clenched her fists at her side. “Not yet, but that’s no thanks to you, of course.”

He didn’t deny it: _You conspired against me, one of your own people. Think what you will of me, but not even I would think to disclose the identity of another magic user._ He kept his eyes lowered, looking anywhere in the small room but directly at her.

“I had no choice, Faolán.”

 _You could’ve_ talked _to me, Emrys. You were so quick to try to capture me—_

She refused to let him try to guilt her. “You had already gone too far and needed to be stopped!”

He stood up then and she worried for a moment that if he could see her in the Veil, he might also be able to harm her. But his movements were nothing but light as he stepped toward her. _I wasn’t too far gone. If you had just come with me…_

“You wouldn’t have poisoned me?”

He flinched as if she had struck him. _It wasn’t supposed to be you. She said she would distract you, keep you away from there until the prince was dead._

“Are you talking about Nimueh?” Emrys scoffed and crossed her arms tight against her chest. “She was the one who told me about the poison, said that she thought I was the only one who could stop it.”

Faolán stiffened. _No, that can’t be right,_ he said in an incredulous whisper. _We agreed it would be Arthur._

Emrys threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. “I don’t have time for any of this,” she exclaimed. “Tell me why you can see me and send me back so I can figure out how to get out of here.”

His mouth twitched ever so slightly. As she looked at him then, Emrys thought that Faolán was struggling against something as he opened his mouth and bit out, _I’m sure you’ve realized by now that magic likes to attract other magic, seeks to make a connection with anything resembling it. And you? You’re old magic, Emrys._

This was more than Baelfire had ever told her. “What do you mean I’m old magic?”

Faolán raised a curious eyebrow at her. _You really don’t know,_ he mused. _I’d assumed you’d taken pity on m before, but—_

“Get on with it,” she ordered, desperation overriding her civility.

The words seemed to tumble uncontrollably out of his mouth: _Common magic like me can easily be forced to bend to the will of magic akin to that of the Old Religion. When you kissed me, I was certain you’d use your magic to make me go back as your prisoner, but now I know it’s because you were unaware you could’ve done that._

“I wouldn’t have used it,” Emrys said immediately, certain. She wondered if the pain he felt now was her magic forcing answers out of him. She didn’t know how she was supposed to relieve him other than to try to let go of her anger, hard as that was. “I don’t want that type of control over people. I-I know what it’s like to be forced by old magic to do things.”

Faolán’s features softened again as he looked at her, and she thought he looked less strained. Emrys let her arms fall to either side of her. In their shared silence, Emrys thought she could hear a distant scratching sound. “I wish things hadn’t come to this. I meant what I said when I told you I’d never wanted this.”

 _I believe you,_ he said softly. _And now I know what you mean. If I could help you somehow—_

“You can,” she said quickly, carefully so as not to make him feel like he was forced. “There are lots of healing spells! Surely one of them must work on me.”

Faolán swallowed, looking pained. _Even if I knew a spell, I wouldn’t be able to get to you in time._

Emrys could feel her spine growing cold as she asked, “What do you mean?”

_Nimueh showed me a spell to cast to accelerate the poison’s effects. She told me the faster Arthur died, the sooner we could convince you to join our cause._

Emrys wasn’t sure now if the scratching sound was part of her imagination. Everything seemed so loud. “How long do I have?”

Faolán pressed his palms against the sides of his head. _Normally, the poison would take five days for its effects to be completed, but—_

“How long do I have,” Emrys screamed, tears bubbling down her face.

He swallowed. _Another day, maybe two, if you’re lucky._

Emrys stumbled backward, feeling the overwhelming need to be off of her feet at that moment as reality settled over her. Her lungs heaved so much; she thought she was choking again. Still, she had to figure something out: “If you could just get to me, you wouldn’t even have to know a spell! All you would have to do is touch me and I could draw power from you to heal myself.”

 _I wouldn’t worry about that, Emrys._ Faolán’s face darkened as the scratching noise suddenly became even louder. _It seems like your prince has finally come to save you._

Emrys’ mind raced. Arthur was _here_? She forced herself to her feet and made her way to block Faolán from the door. “Faolán, please don’t hurt him.”

He glared down at her for a brief second before walking through her. _I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve chosen this spoiled, magicless prince over me,_ he muttered.

She tuned and ran after him as her surroundings shifted again. Suddenly, she was outside, near a large tree that stood tall behind Arthur and Faolán, whose eyes shifted to meet hers again in the middle of his heaving breathing.

Arthur was breathing heavy too, but he didn’t lower his sword. Emrys noticed that the room had been slightly singed on one side, presumably due to Faolán, but Arthur himself sported no burn marks.

 _Get out of here,_ Faolán growled, his eyes still narrowed at Emrys.

She opened her mouth to command him to stop, but silenced herself when Arthur said, _I can’t. Not yet, at least. We have to get this antidote back to Emrys._

“We,” Emrys repeated softly.

“Yes,” said Baelfire as he suddenly appeared beside her again. “It would seem that both of the young Pendragons have chosen to come here to find your antidote.”

“Where’s Morgana,” Emrys asked, panic beginning to take over her. She didn’t have time to focus on the fact that Baelfire was suddenly here and Faolán could still see her. To have both Morgana and Arthur here without her to protect them was almost too much for her to comprehend.

 _You and I are not so different, sorcerer,_ said Arthur as he lowered and sheathed his sword, drawing Emrys’ attention back to him. His eyes never wavered from Faolán. _I know you care about Emrys too._ When Faolán didn’t say anything, Arthur pressed on: _She’s suffering and doesn’t have much time left._

Faolán turned his head away from Emrys and Arthur. _You think we’re the same because of our mutual ties to her? You don’t fool me for a moment—you and your family will always see those of us who have been chosen by magic as monsters._

Arthur swallowed and briefly glanced away from Faolán. _I admit that my father hasn’t been the most gracious when dealing with sorcerers, but I am not my father. I don’t share all of his beliefs._

Faolán scoffed and slowly started to shuffle away from Arthur, towards a set of corridors. Emrys couldn’t help but to take a few steps forward as she reached for the baker’s apprentice.

 _Emrys,_ said Arthur with a sort of strangled gasp, making her turn around. To her almost relief, Arthur didn’t seem to notice her. _Emrys cares about you, Faolán. I can see that she does. If you would help me get the antidote back to her in time, I would—_

 _What,_ Faolán sneered. _You’d offer me gold or ‘protection?’ You tried that before and I don’t want it._

_I would let Emrys go with you._

Emrys’ breath hitched in her chest. She clutched at her necklace to steady her heartbeat as she looked between Arthur and Faolán. What was Arthur even talking about? She didn’t want to be in Camelot, that was certain, but Arthur didn’t _know_ that, did he? And even if he did know that, she didn’t want to leave with Faolán.

Faolán turned his eyes on Emrys and gave a quick, chuckle, despite himself. _That’s very noble of you, Pendragon, but I don’t think she would like that very much. Even if you commanded her yourself, I’m certain she wouldn’t go. She’s pretty strong-willed, that one._

To Emrys’ surprise, Baelfire let out a huge laugh. “I’m glad to see you’re still here, even though you’ve been _no_ help at all,” she hissed at him, her face hot with frustration.

He smirked at her as he said, “I’ve never been inclined to meddle in something that’s already _so_ interesting.”

 _That she is_ , said Arthur. _I could imagine what she’d look like if she’d heard me._

 _Yes, imagine if she did._ said Faolán softly. His eyes flicked over to Arthur suddenly, so fast that it made Emrys’ heart quicken its pace again. But he only said, _I thought Nimueh and I were together in this plan, but I can see now she wasn’t interested in helping me._ _I thought if I could just convince her how Emrys was much too special to lose, especially in this war Uther has waged against magic, things would work out. But her fear of Emrys seems to be greater than her fear of Uther—she’s allowed it to let her do foolish things._

 _I think_ , said Arthur slowly, _that that’s true for any of us. Fear can have the most power over us if we let it._

 _But you haven’t._ Faolán pressed his lips together as his eyebrows furrowed into a frown. _I’ve always thought this war could only be solved in one of two ways—with one of us on top._

 _But now_ , Arthur probed.

Faolán shrugged and let his head droop. _I’m not so sure anymore,_ he admitted.

Arthur let out a deep sigh and, to Emrys’ surprise, nodded. With a tentative smile, he offered his hand to the baker’s apprentice, saying, _I’m not so sure either. But I know that we can figure this out together, starting right now, with you coming back with us to save Emrys._

Emrys held her breath as Faolán locked eyes with her and cautiously took Arthur’s hand in his. _Alright,_ he whispered.

 _Thank you_ , Arthur said, his voice breaking at the end. _I can’t tell you how much this means to me._

For a moment, Emrys couldn’t believe what she’d just seen: Faolán had actually taken Arthur’s hand. “He’s coming back,” she whispered to Baelfire. “Baelfire, this could be our solution!”

Faolán winced. _Just don’t get your hopes up._

 _Don’t worry,_ said Morgana as she morphed out of the shadows behind Faolán, her voice just as clear and strong, _we won’t._

As Faolán spun around to face Morgana, Emrys caught a quick glimpse of something silver before Morgana jabbed it into Faolán’s stomach. Realization struck Emrys as Morgana briefly pulled her bloodied dagger back before pressing it once more into his stomach.

Emrys wanted to scream—felt the sound right in the base of her throat even—but it wouldn’t come out. As Morgana released Faolán and let him drop to the floor, Emrys rushed forward to catch him, his head passing right through her hands.

Her fingers still tingled with the familiar electricity she felt from him, though he didn’t seem to be reacting to it anymore. “Faolán,” she yelled, “Faolán, please, no!” She pulled at his magic with her own, tried to circle it within him, looking for something to heal, but their joined magic was lost inside of him.

Someone stooped down beside her, and she glanced up to see that it was Faolán. “I’ll admit I’m a little sad that you won’t cry over my death, but I suppose I deserve as much.”

“Don’t say that,” she sniffed. “I can still save you.”

“Emrys, no,” he said as he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up from his body. “Don’t waste what little magic you have left on me. You need to get back to your body. Maybe you can buy yourself some more time.”

 _Morgana,_ Arthur whispered, drawing her and Faolán’s attention. _What have you done?_

Resolution chilled Morgana’s blue eyes. _Exactly what I needed to do. He would never have come with us, Arthur. He was a sorcerer, a liar._ She dug into her pocket and pulled out a fistful of yellow flowers. _We already have everything we need to save Emrys._

“Emrys,” said Faolán suddenly, “you have to get back.”

Emrys knew that Faolán was right, even before her surroundings started shifting again. As she turned to look at Baelfire, she noticed that Morgana and Arthur were no longer in the room. There was no telling when they had left.

“Baelfire, how much time do I have left,” she asked.

Baelfire shrugged. “There’s no way of telling, but I can see that you are still not quite dead.”

“Baelfire,” Faolán asked as he looked around.

Emrys started to answer, but stopped as her surroundings shifted one last time. “No,” she cried, “I can’t leave now!”

As he started to fade from her vision, she felt Faolán pull her into a tight hug. “You must. You’re strong, Emrys—I know you’ll find a way through this. And when you get back, you’ll have someone looking out for you on this side.”

With that, Faolán and the dark compound disappeared entirely as Emrys and Baelfire were transported back to Silas’ chambers, where only the physician and Reuben remained.

 _Uncle, you can’t_ , Reuben whispered earnestly, glancing frightfully back at the door.

 _I must try_ , Silas hissed back. _If her symptoms are really this bad, then there’s a good chance Faolán used magic to create the poison. The mortaeus flower may not be enough for the antidote._

Emrys turned on the dragon with wide eyes. “You said I wasn’t dying!”

“No,” said Baelfire, “I said you were not _quite_ dead. But you’re much closer to being dead now.”

Reuben looked over at his sister’s body and shook his head. _But if the King finds out that you used magic—_

 _He won’t_. _Stand guard and be on the lookout for Guinevere’s return with the mortaeus._ Silas took a deep breath and lifted the bowl in his hands. _Sythan…_

He stopped and glanced backward at the cot, his face grim. Emrys reached out and placed her hand upon her uncle’s shoulder, hoping that she could push what little magic she still felt through him. With another deep breath, Silas began the chant again: _Sythan arrest wearth feasceaft funden. Denum æfter dome. Dreamleas gebad he gewinnes longsum._

Emrys stood back, mesmerized by her uncle’s sacrifice. She had heard tales of Silas in his glory days as a grand magic practitioner, but he never spoke of those times anymore, never even seemed tempted to go back to his old ways before now.

The potion in his bowl sizzled and foamed for a moment, dying out just as Reuben called out to Silas that Guinevere had returned. _Uther wasn’t keen on letting anyone see Arthur or Morgana_ , she huffed.

 _Have you got the mortaeus,_ Silas asked.

Guinevere handed it to Silas, who immediately began to crush the flower leaves into the bowl. Lancelot threw open the doors to the room as Silas poured the potion into a small cup. _How is she_ , the knight asked.

 _Her breathing’s gotten worse,_ Guinevere informed Lancelot. She moved out of Silas’ way as the physician hurried to Emrys’ side and instructed Reuben to hold her nose as the potion was poured into her mouth. _I was only able to bring a small portion of the flower back with me from sneaking into the dungeons._

 _Swallow, Emrys,_ Silas commanded. _Swallow it._

Emrys stood over herself, wondering how she would wake up from the poison. She noticed that she couldn’t feel or taste the antidote. As the moments drug on, panic began to rise within Emrys, especially when Silas pulled his head from against her chest, saying, _Her heart has stopped._

Guinevere let out a small gasp. _She’s…dead?_

 _She can’t be_ , said Lancelot. Then again, _She can’t be._

Reuben clenched his fists until his knuckles were white. His eyes were a raw red—he didn’t seem to have any tears left to cry. And yet, his voice broke as he said, _It was her destiny._

The doors were thrown back again as Arthur and Morgana rushed into the room. Morgana held her fists up so high that her sleeves fell back and revealed her reddening wrists. _I have more of the flower, I—_

Arthur realized first that something was wrong: _What’s happening? Silas?_ He glanced around the room as understanding seemed to wash over him. _No._

Silas stood up, hanging his head over his niece’s still body. _It’s my fault. I should’ve looked after her better._

 _No, no_ , said Arthur as Morgana turned and threw herself into his arms with a violent sob. _It was me. If I’d have got here sooner. If I’d have been quicker._

 _If our father hadn’t been so stubborn,_ Morgana spit.

“What do I do? We have to do something,” said Emrys as she pulled at her necklace. She could still recognize the faintest of heartbeats behind it in her body. “I’m _dying_ , Baelfire.”

Baelfire shrugged, his expression on his face neutral. “There’s nothing you can do now, Emrys. Between your attempt to heal the dead baker’s apprentice and your decision to give your magic to your uncle instead of taking what little he had left, there’s not enough left to help you heal.”

Emrys thought about everyone in that room that she had to get back to and everyone who wasn’t there too. She thought about Faolán, who had given her more answers and assistance than Baelfire had, even when she’d been angry enough to kill him herself. She was Old Magic—Faolán had said so. And though she wasn’t sure yet what that meant, she knew that she couldn’t just allow herself to take Baelfire’s word for it.

He’d been wrong before.

Emrys leaned over the edge of the cot and grabbed both of her ankles, squeezing every last bit of her magic back into her body. “There will be. _Wake up_!”

The Emrys on the cot inhaled a deep breath as her eyelids fluttered open. At the same time, Emrys suddenly became very lightheaded and closed her eyes against the pain. A strong wind pulled at her body.

“Impressive,” she heard Baelfire whisper. “Truly impressive.”

The first thing she heard when she opened her eyes again was Arthur shouting her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to stop jinxing myself—every time I say a chapter will hopefully be quick...(oof.)
> 
> But either way, here's your latest chapter! It was weird for me to have Emrys play such a passive role in her own chapter, but please let me know what you thought of this and other things that happened in this chapter!
> 
> For those of you who may still be wondering when Arthur and Emrys will officially make up, all I have to say to that is: "Soon..."
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with this story so far!


	17. The Aftermath (Arthur)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Emrys starts to heal from being poisoned, Arthur deals with his emotions.

To Arthur’s surprise, Uther did not sentence his son to the stocks, which Arthur had willingly volunteered to be placed in for a month in exchange for Uther allowing him and Morgana to bring the rest of the flower to Emrys.

And Arthur had been good on his promise, forcing himself away from Emrys’ side not long after confirming her survival to face what he thought would be his punishment from Uther. But when he stood in front of Uther, all his father had to say was, “The woman the sorcerer mentioned, did you see her?”

“Nimueh,” Arthur asked, flustered. “No. It was strange, though.”

“In what way?”

Arthur took a deep breath to steady himself. “If she was there, Morgana and I would’ve been at her mercy. I was distracted by Faolán and Morgana was somewhere else in the fortress. She could have finished us off, but she chose not to.”

Uther nodded and paced the floor in front of his throne. “You must’ve been scared,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Had its moments.” Arthur didn’t dare tell his father that it wasn’t Faolán he’d been afraid of.

“But you rose above it and killed the sorcerer.”

Arthur winced. He had forgotten about this change in the story. It hadn’t been hard to convince Uther that the poison had been a part of a sorcerer’s plan, but he still hadn’t been moved to let them save Emrys. In a moment of panic, Morgana had told Uther that Arthur had been the one to kill Faolán. Arthur had killed many people in his time—more than he was comfortable with—but this was his first time accepting responsibility for a death he hadn’t caused.

“I had hoped to reason with him,” Arthur started, trying to find a way to tell his father the truth.

Uther turned sharply and shook his head at his son. “Those who practice magic know only evil. They despise and seek to destroy goodness wherever they find it. Which is why Nimueh wanted you dead. She is evil.”

Arthur’s eyes widened at the harshness in his father’s voice. “Sounds as if you know her.”

Uther looked away from Arthur and gave a curt nod. “I do. To know the heart of one sorcerer is to know them all. You did the right thing, killing that sorcerer. And even though you were disobeying me, I admit it was a good decision to save the life of this particular serving girl. I may have overlooked her significance in this matter.”

Arthur swallowed, uncomfortable with the way his father was talking about Emrys, as if it’d only been a mistake to overlook her because of her power. And the lie was still itching at him: “Father, I would hate to disappoint you, especially now, but—“

Uther shushed Arthur and clapped his son on both shoulders. “I know we have had our differences in the past about how to handle sorcery in Camelot, but your actions tonight proved that you have matured far greater than I would’ve expected. I’m proud of you, Arthur. Never forget that.”

There was a knock on the other side of the throne room’s doors and Lord Bayard strode in. The little Lord had been more than willing to accept Uther’s half-hearted apology, which Arthur had not been surprised to hear.

“Lord Bayard,” said Uther with a smile. “Perfect timing! We have some plans to finalize, Arthur, but you’re more than welcome to stay and join in on our conversation.”

“Actually,” said Arthur quickly, “I think it would be better if I rested, Father.”

Uther nodded and approved Arthur’s dismissal with a wave.

Arthur hurried from the throne room, hoping that he hadn’t been too obvious. He was certain anyone could’ve realized that he had no intention of going back to his own chambers. He raced through the castle with little regard for anyone unfortunate enough to end up in his path as he entered the part of the servants’ sector where Silas lived.

“Arthur,” Gwaine said as the prince reached the top of the stairs. He shared a quick look at Percival and straightened slightly. “I didn’t think you would be coming back so soon.”

Arthur steadied himself with a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, Gwaine, Percival, thank you for staying here.”

“We would’ve done it even if you hadn’t asked.”

“Still,” said Arthur, “I want you to know how much I appreciate it. I felt better about leaving knowing that you all were here for her. If something had happened to her…” He bit his lip as realization about what he’d been about to say dawned on him.

Percival put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and gave him a curt nod. “Tell her that.”

Arthur let out his uncertainty with a wobbly breath and a shake of his head. He glanced at the door they guarded and asked, “Is she awake?”

This time it was Gwaine who rubbed his neck. “Actually, sire, she’s not even inside.”

“What?”

“She had a lot of questions about what happened after you left and Morgana filled everyone in.” Gwaine spoke slowly, as if he was giving Arthur time to process everything he was saying.

Understanding hit Arthur with a sinking feeling in his stomach: “She told you about Faolán.” He didn’t need the knights to nod to confirm it. “Where is she?”

Gwaine avoided Arthur’s eyes. “Silas said it was probably best to give her some space.”

“Where is she,” he asked again, his voice rising with hysteria.

There was some whispering behind the door and then Lancelot came out. He gave Arthur a gentle smile as he said, “Come join us inside, sire. I’m sure Emrys will be back soon. We’ll wait for her together while you tell us more about the sorcerer.”

Gwaine seemed to perk up at this: “Yeah, let the bragging begin! How’d you manage it, Arthur?”

“I-I—“Arthur stammered as he glanced through the crack in the door and locked eyes with a strained Morgana. His throat tightened and he grew hot as he realized that all eyes were on him. He had to get out of there; he had to try to find Emrys.

 Someone called his name as he ran back down the stairs, but Arthur didn’t stop to see who it was. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he rounded the corner, heading deeper into the commoner’s section. There weren’t many people out this late, but still he wondered if everyone who turned to look at him had heard the story about Faolán. He had to find somewhere to go, away from everyone’s eyes, but there was only one place he could think to go in this moment that no one would expect him to be.

And so, Arthur found himself back at the bakery, pausing briefly as he noticed someone had lit a fire and seemed to be mumbling something. He realized it must’ve been the baker and he scrambled to think of an excuse for his presence as he crept around the back of the establishment.

Arthur skidded to a stop as he rounded the corner and saw that it was Emrys and not the baker who had started the fire. She had pulled up a bench to get her closer to the fire and was gently rocking herself. As he stood there watching her, he realized that the mumbling sound he’d heard earlier had actually been the sound of Emrys crying.

Her body suddenly jerked to attention and she turned to look at him, her eyes red-rimmed and face lined with tears. For a while, neither of them spoke. Then, something compelled Arthur forward, and he grabbed a large apron off of a nail to drape over her shoulders.

Her breath hitched for a moment and Arthur almost thought that the fire itself had stopped. He shook off the idea, trying to think of what to say to Emrys. He’d thought a lot about what he’d wanted to say to her the next time he saw her, but seeing her like this now, he realized he didn’t know where to start.

“You don’t have to be here,” she said suddenly, sniffling. Then, with a glare,  “I didn’t ask you to be.”

He couldn’t help but bristle at her statement. Still, he took a seat beside her. “Yeah, well, it looks like you need someone right now, and I’m not gonna leave you in this state.”

She whipped her head around with such force, he almost felt the desire to step back. “I don’t owe you anything, okay?”

“I never said—“

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

She gaped at him in shock. Then, in a quiet voice, she said, “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine,” he said. “What happened on the training grounds, how I acted about Faolán—it was awful and I should never have done it. And for that, I am truly sorry, Emrys.”

Her eyebrows softened apart from each other and the corner of her mouth turned up in a small smile. She placed her hand over his, giving it a quick and gentle squeeze. “I forgive you.”

This was what he’d wanted—her to smile at him again. “Well,” he said playfully as he knocked his shoulder into hers, “aren’t you going to apologize for what you said about the kissing thing?”

Emrys flashed him a wicked smile. “No, I don’t think I will.” She must’ve thought of the memory again, because suddenly, Emrys burst into a fit of giggles.

Immediate sorrow clenched his throat. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, still laughing. “I mean, that you honestly thought—“ Emrys’ laughter faded away as he looked at her with his pained eyes. Understanding lit up her own eyes and her smile fell. “Wait, it’s true?”

Arthur’s ears burned with indignation. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“No.” She turned her head away from him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

He let out a long sigh and used both of his hands to push back his hair. “It’s not that I  _don’t_  know that people kiss. It’s just…I thought more people were accustomed to saving that for the person they marry.”

Emrys snorted. “That sounds incredibly boring.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her unabashed honesty. “Well, forgive me! I didn’t realize it was such a horrible idea. I thought it was quite romantic, actually, but I suppose I was wrong.”

“No, no,” she said quickly. “The idea certainly is romantic. I’m just not used to it, is all. I forget sometimes that kissing is not as casual in other places as it is in Ealdor.”

“Remind me  _never_  to pay a visit to your village.”

She laughed again as she reached out and pushed his shoulder away from her. “It’s not like  _that_. I just mean we’ve come to think about kissing in a different way. A kiss doesn’t always mean the same thing.”

Arthur lifted one of his eyebrows at her. “A different way?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he said, “Come on—stop pretending to be mysterious. Tell me.”

“I’ve never had to explain it before,” she said. “But there’s a difference between kissing someone simply because you find their appearance captivating and kissing someone because…”

“Because?”

She turned to him, then, and he thought, for the slightest of moments, that she looked at his mouth. “Because, at that moment, there’s nothing else you could do to accurately express your feelings for them.”

“And,” Arthur said, breathless, “what is that difference?”

This time, when her gaze wavered, Arthur was certain her eyes were on his lips. “I don’t know yet,” she whispered. Emrys caught his gaze again. “I’ll admit that I’m waiting to know the difference for myself one day.”

Arthur swallowed the rock hard lump in his throat. Having her eyes on him had reminded him how painfully dry his lips were and he felt the consuming desire to wet them. Her eyes followed the movement of his tongue before coming to rest on his bottom lip.

Finally, Arthur found his voice: “How do you know there is a difference, then?”

The corner of her mouth twitched up into a mischievous grin. “I’ve seen it.”

“You’ve  _seen_  it,” he asked, raising a skeptic eyebrow.

Her mouth dropped in indignation. “Yes,” she insisted. “If you want to see it for yourself, you’ll just have to visit my village sometime.”

“Absolutely not.”

She threw her head back, then, and laughed. In her laugh, he heard the release of all the pain he’d put her through in the last few days. When it finally ended, she looked at him with the familiar light in her eyes. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go back.”

He caught her hand as she started to stand up. “Could we just…stay out here for a little while? I’m not ready to face everyone yet.”

For once, she didn’t question him. She merely nodded and rejoined him on the bench.

“I didn’t kill Faolán,” he admitted in a whisper.

She didn’t turn to him, just kept her face toward the fire. Then, finally, she said, “I know.”

He hadn’t expected to hear this. “You do?”

Emrys’ face twisted into an emotion that Arthur couldn’t quite place. “I-I just mean that I knew when they told me that it wasn’t true. I know you were not fond of Faolán, but I know you are not quite like your father.”

He squeezed her hand and let out a tense breath. “Thank you,” he whispered. “And I really am sorry he’s gone. I know he was special to you.”

She leaned against his shoulder, narrowing her eyes at the fire as it seized up and shrunk in size. “Faolán and I had a…complicated relationship. At times, it felt like he understood me better than anyone ever had before; other times, we were so far apart from each other that I wondered what I ever saw in him.”

Against his better judgment, Arthur asked, “What did you see in him?” He wondered if Emrys could hear the envy in his voice.

Emrys let out a deep sigh and placed her other hand over Arthur’s. “Someone I could protect,” she whispered. “Someone to protect me.”

Arthur was suddenly reminded of something that Reuben had said before. “Before I left for the antidote, Reuben mentioned something about your fate having already been decided a long time ago, that you’ve been fighting against it your whole life.”

She stiffened against him. “Yes,” she said, prompting.

“What was he talking about?”

Emrys pulled away from him as she brought her knees into her chest. “In the days before we came to live in Ealdor, my family traveled with Druids through Essetir.”

Somehow, this wasn’t surprising to Arthur. If anything, it cleared up how she could’ve found sympathy for a magic user like Faolán. Druids were known for their primarily peaceful existence as magical nomads, picking up other lost and unwanted souls and taking them into their community.

“A friend of mine said I was special,” Emrys continued, “so he took me before the Elders for a special reading. I thought it was just supposed to be a bit of fun—a time to ask about love and that sort of thing—but all they could prophesize was a vision of my undoing. I wanted to ask if there was a way to prevent it, but I—a fire started and my family fled to the closest village.”

“Ealdor,” Arthur said, to which Emrys nodded. He forced himself to ask the question he dreaded the most: “H-How much time do you have left?”

Emrys shrugged and stared ahead. Then, suddenly, she let out a half-laugh and dug her heels into the floor. “I’ve learned not to think about it so much, but we got so close this time, didn’t we?” She tried to laugh again, but it came out as a sob.

Arthur immediately reached out and pulled Emrys into his chest, cradling the back of her head as he tightened his other arm around her. “I’m going to protect you.”

He felt her gentle smile against his breast as she pressed her hand against his cheek. “You might not be able to do anything, Arthur. Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood.”

“Well, I can’t just sit here and do nothing while you’re over here suffering by yourself,” he mumbled against her forehead. “Isn’t it scary to be ready to die at such a young age?”

She pushed away from him to catch his eyes. “Who said I was ready? I had a close call, but I’m still here, aren’t I? Maybe that means it won’t happen. Maybe I’ll be okay after all and I’ll grow as old as Silas one day—maybe even older! As long as there is the tiniest, wildest chance, I won’t be giving up.”

Arthur was stunned for a moment, unsure how to take her sudden shift in mood. Then, he leaned his forehead against her shoulder and laughed. “That means you can’t go dying on me anytime soon, Emrys.”

She swallowed. “Of course not. Who would you have then to temper your arrogance?”

He stood up as she let out another jovial laugh. “Hang on, I am  _not_  arrogant.”

“Oh, really,” she said as she rose to her feet as well. “What about that time with the two squires—“

“That was  _one_  time and they deserved it.” He opened his mouth to say something else in his defense, but it was all too obvious to Arthur that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with her. Instead, Arthur chose the next best thing—he swatted at her hair, flipping half of it over her head and into her face.

He hurried out of the bakery, laughing as she sputtered hair out of her mouth. It didn’t take her long to catch up to him. “I suppose you’ll call me arrogant for that as well,” he asked as they started down the cobbled path.

She swung her hip into him with so much force, Arthur almost lost his balance. “No,” she said, smiling as she skipped ahead of him, “I’d call you a dollop head for that.”

“A dollop head,” he asked. “There’s no such word.”

“It’s idiomatic.”

He paused briefly to look at her. “It’s what?”

Emrys smiled at him over her shoulder as she said, “You need to be more in touch with the people.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him to peer at her as they walked. “Describe dollop head.”

“In two words?”

“If you think you can.”

“Prince Arthur.” Emrys picked up the end of her night slip and sprinted away from Arthur before he had the chance to do anything to her.

Laughing, Arthur chased after her. As they raced, unhindered, around the empty courtyard, Arthur realized that he wasn’t actually concerned about catching Emrys—wouldn’t even know what to do with her if he did.

A brief memory of Emrys pecking Morgana’s mouth flashed in his mind.

Arthur stopped running and shook his head, trying to get rid of the thought. He didn’t want to do that. At least, he didn’t think he did. And yet, the idea had steadily become more and more frequent ever since the time with Faolán.  _No_ , he realized suddenly. It had been before that, at least since Malin, right?

“Arthur?”

His head snapped up at the sound of Emrys’ voice. Her eyes pinched in at the corners as her face crinkled in worry. He tried to find something to say to ease her anxiety, but all he could do was stare back at her.

All that time in the bakery together and he hadn’t gotten a good look at her. Now, bathed in the moonlight in front of him, he realized he should’ve made her go back sooner. The heat had added some color to her face, but now he could see how pale she was, could see her tremble as she breathed. How often did she pretend to be strong?

Fear gripped his heart as she raised her hand to her mouth and started to cough and heave. He didn’t know if she was going to pass out again, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. Arthur closed the distance between them and swung her onto his back, locking his arms underneath her legs after he had fastened her arms around his neck.

She started to protest, but he said, “Let me take care of you, like I said I would.”

Emrys coughed again as she nestled her head between his neck and shoulder. Silas’ chambers weren’t too far from where they were. When he got inside, he realized everyone had found a corner to settle into for the night. He nudged Silas with his foot, waking the old physician.

“Emrys,” Silas mumbled sleepily. He didn’t look too well either, with dark circles surrounding his eyes. Still, he quietly rose to his feet and motioned for Arthur to go into the back and lay Emrys on her bed.

Emrys pushed herself up on both elbows. “I’m fine, Silas,” she said to her uncle as he set up a candle and a few bottles by her bed.

He grumbled as he held out a spoonful of liquid for her to take. When Emrys made a face at the medicine, he shoveled it into her mouth for her. “I almost went out there myself looking for you when you didn’t come back.”

Emrys stuck out her tongue at the taste and frowned. “I wasn’t gone that long, really—only a few hours! And besides, I’ve been in a bed all this time—“

“That’s where you’re supposed to be after you’ve been  _poisoned_ , Emrys,” Silas exclaimed. “I’d thought tonight, at least, you’d have the sense to take things easy. If not for yourself, for me, for your brother.”

Arthur stepped forward, saying, “It’s my fault, Silas. She would’ve come back sooner if I hadn’t stopped her. I’m sorry for delaying her.”

“It’s alright, Arthur.” Silas leaned over and whacked the back of Emrys’ head. As she opened her mouth to complain, Silas rubbed her hair and said, “Oh, you silly girl. Go easy on an old man’s heart, please?”

She wrapped her arms around him and nodded into his shoulder. “You know I can’t promise you that, Uncle.”

She’d said it with a smile on her face, but Arthur couldn’t help but wonder if she had been talking about something else. Her words from earlier rung in his head:  _Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood._

Arthur put his hand on Silas’ shoulder and took the phial of liquid from his hands. “You should get some rest. I’ll watch over her for the night.”

For a moment, Arthur thought the old man would argue with him. But, instead, Silas kissed the top of Emrys’ forehead and gave the prince a gentle smile. “I’ll bring you a blanket, sire.”

“You’re full of surprises tonight, Arthur,” Emrys said as he pulled up a chair beside her bed.

He held out his hands to accept a pillow from her and felt the corner of his mouth twitch in anticipation of a smile. “Is that so?”

“Certainly. I didn’t think I’d  _ever_  hear you apologize or offer to do things for someone else, let alone in the same day.”

He swung the pillow into her face. Despite the coughing fit that this induced, she was quick to grab the pillow back from him. She raised her arm to retaliate just as Silas reentered the room.

“Emrys,” her uncle hissed. “You may be sick, but don’t use that as an excuse to antagonize the prince, especially after he’s shown you such kindness.”

“Kindness,” Emrys scoffed as she tossed the pillow back into Arthur’s face. “He was the one who started it.”

Arthur struggled to control his laughter as Silas shushed Emrys and handed him his blankets. He glanced at Emrys slyly out of the corner of his eye. “No need to worry about it, Silas. I’m always prepared to handle Emrys and all her difficulties.”

“Seems fair, considering we have to put up with yours all the time,” she countered.

“Enough. You’re to make sure you actually rest, Emrys,” Silas said sternly. Then, turning to Arthur, he whispered, “If she does give you any trouble, sire, don’t hesitate to call for me from the other room.”

As Silas blew out the candle and cracked the door to the room, realization suddenly weighed down on Arthur’s shoulders: He would be sleeping in Emrys’ room. He was aware of a warmth that was slowly spreading its way through his abdomen. Against all logic, Arthur wrapped his arms around his pillow, hoping that, as he buried his face in it, it would somehow squash some of the heat.

“Arthur,” Emrys whispered, igniting the flame once more. “What are you thinking about?”

His lie came out almost immediately: “Sleeping. Just like you should be doing.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose, a short of half-laugh. “I really worried you, didn’t I?”

As always, her ability to read him was terrifying. “What are you talking about, worry? What worry?”

“I can remember you talking to me.”

He sat up straight and turned to her in the darkness. “Y-You can?”

She hummed in affirmation and shifted in her sheets. When she spoke this time, her voice was slurred by sleepiness. “You stroked my forehead.”

“Your brow was on fire,” he said quickly. There was a different heat rising within him now.

“Tell me again what you said?”

“I don’t remember. I was just talking.” The lies came out smoothly. He hoped that she would accept these and just go to sleep.

He jumped as he felt her fingers suddenly brush the side of his arm. “Yes, you do,” she teased.

Of course he did.

“Come on,” she said as her fingers slid down his forearm and grasped at his hand. “Something about how you needed me to be okay.”

He tried one last time to deny it: “No, no, I never said that.”

“Arthur,” she purred, her voice sending shivers toward the base of his belly.

“You should get some sleep,” he whispered. He lifted his hand to put hers back on the bed, but when he tried to pull his hand away, Emrys tightened her grip. “Emrys?”

She was silent for a moment, her fingers digging softly into the top of his hand. “I just need someone to remind me I’m here.”

 

Arthur was almost certain that the silence in the room had been replaced with his heartbeat. As he tried to get his heart back to its normal pace, he laced his fingers with hers and pulled his chair closer to her bed. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, though he was almost certain she was already resting. “And neither are you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a slower-paced chapter this time, but I wanted to spend as much time as I could with Emrys and Arthur's reconciliation. Gotta let my babies rest before the really big stuff goes down! 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think about it!


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